#Because Mav talks with him before take his papers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bo0tleg · 9 months ago

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Maverick and Rooster aren't going to be able to immediately fall back to what they were. They care for each other deeply, and saved each others life on the mission, but this sort of shit needs time. One conversation isn't going to cut it with those two.

Look: I like the idea of them falling back into what they were before just as much as the next person, but that's.... not what realistically would happen. And that's ok! It makes sense for them not to know what to do with each other at the start.

For the record: I'm also not blaming anyone for writing fics about them immediately going back to the father-son or uncle-nephew dynamic because, because come on. It's cute as HECK! I'd just like to think about how to explore their feelings and hang-ups about each other in dept!

They're both stubborn fucks and this has been simmering for far too long for anything to be resolved instantly with a single conversation. Bradley un-learned how to talk honestly to people the day he left, and Mav's scared about what honesty can bring. They've sat on this pot for so long they no longer feel it burning their asses, and forgot what they put in the damn thing in the first place, so they stay there. On top of it. Still burning their asses.

Bradley holds onto grudges like it's a lifeline, and one mission isn't going to change that. He listened to Mav in the canyon because he rescinded what he had said with his actions. Mav said that he 'wasn't ready' but then chose Rooster as his wingman, communicating that he is ready and that he trusts him with his life. But that was a life or death situation that Rooster was both present in and could interfere in if he so chose. He saved Mav because he didn't want him to die, and they seem more inclined to deal with it back on the boat, but it's still a long road ahead.

What happened was they rekindled their care for each other, because neither had ever truly given up on it in the first place. Mav never stopped caring and knew it, Bradley did the same without knowing. This just so happens to be the first time they're forced to deal with each other since the fallout.

Just because they care about each other doesn't erase the history that's separated them for all of this time. In fact, it probably makes it worse.

Bradley thought highly of Mav, and he didn't live up to it. Mav wanted the best for Bradley, and did what he thought would be best. Their problems came from the root of care. And it's more bittersweet because of it.

Because of it, resentment and guilt have settled over their shoulders, respectively, and it refused to go away.

They talk, and they try, but it's still not great.

Mav is inclined to just sweep it all under a rug and ignore the lump it forms on the floor. Because of his guilt, he takes all of the blame and sugarcoats Bradley's part in said blame to try and make up for it. Bradley is just as fault as Mav is, but Mav doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So instead of fixing things, they look slightly less crooked, but not entirely right. It's a 'their problem' not 'his problem'. They're both at fault, and they both need to deal with it.

Maverick refuses to give up any of the blame, and Bradley is going to refuse to take any of it.

Sure, Mav fucked up, but Bradley blew it out of proportions. Storming off and refusing to talk is a normal response, but not for fifteen years. He barely let Mav explain himself.

Everything "wrong" about himself he blames on Mav. He thinks that Mav fucked him up by breaking his trust as his father figure, so he doesn't trust anybody anymore. He thinks that him being completely emotionally stunted and sensitive to critique is Mav's fault because of the 'your not ready' comment.

Thing is, it's his own fault. It's his fault that he's been fucked up for so long because he never tried to fix what was broken. It's not Bradley's fault that Mav pulled his papers, but he threw away everything, everyone he had before because of a single (justifiable!) mistake. And he doesn't recognize it for what it is, and refuses the blame. Carting it all off to Mav instead of dealing with his own shortcomings.

Mav is aware of this (that Rooster refuses to take the blame), but agreed with Rooster in his analysis of the situation, and takes it all on himself, which is not a healthy mechanism for either of them. It pats Rooster on the head for somewhere he fucked up on, and overloads Mav with guilt that shouldn't be that intense and deep.

But they don't know this. So Mav isn't angry at Rooster, because he's blindsighted by his care.

Thing is, I want someone to be angry. I want someone to be offended on Mav's behalf because he himself won't do it. I don't know who it would be, could be a good number of people, maybe even a child OC.

For fifteen years Bradley left without looking back. He left, and Mav suffered. Someone saw that. Someone was there with him all or most of those years, sitting right beside him as his guilt grew with every holiday that went by, with every letter or call left unanswered.

The obvious option is Ice. However, I want to pull away from that option, because if Ice is dead (stay with me now) it only creates more conflict, more nuance to what's going on.

Bradley cut Mav out of his life, and it's implied that he cut out any association with him too. That includes Ice.

What if he never spoke to Ice either for those fifteen years? Ice died. Bradley went to his funeral. Bradley went to his funeral as a fellow aviator, as an underling obeying orders.

Bradley's face in that funeral was blank.

That is the face of a man watching the burial of someone he once could potentially have considered a father figure that he hadn't spoken with for fifteen years. And he's never going to be able to speak to him again.

At that funeral, I don't think he regretted it. Sad, maybe, but no regret.

The regret only hit later.

He got to mend things with Mav after the Uranium Mission and beyond, but that is no longer possible with Ice.

Bradley regretted what he did, how he neglected them for years, but he regretted it too late for one of them.

I think Brad probably ended up at Ice's grave at some point, and owned up to everything he didn't– couldn't– own up to at the funeral. And he fucking sobbed. Begged. Apologized, over and over.

This is the reason I suggested maybe a child OC, because if the child is Icemav's or just Ice's, Bradley's gonna have a warped perception of them. (Note: When I say "child" I mean that it was their child as in gender neutral for son/daughter, it doesn't necessarily mean the person in question should be an actual kid.)

Bradley's gonna see that kid as penance.

And they're gonna fucking hate him for it.

Bradley is going to look at them and see Ice, and they're gonna hate him for it. Their father is dead, and for the last fifteen years of his life he'd never been truly happy because this prick never bothered to own up to his mistakes. Not even at the funeral Bradley owned up to his shortcomings, and now all of a sudden he waltzes right back like he never left? What the fuck!

Bradley could have done this, idk like a week sooner? But he only came to his senses after Ice died. Their father died and Bradley barely looked like he cared is what they're going to think. But all of a sudden, he goes on a suicide mission and almost died and he's suddenly back? Because when his own life is in danger he changes his mind, but when Ice died he couldn't care less? What the fuck!

That man went to that funeral as a subordinate, not as the son he was.

The kid doesn't have the tinted lenses Mav has on about Bradley. All the resentment Mav doesn't feel, this kid is going to feel for him.

Bradley is going to understand their resentment because of Ice, and is going to focus on fixing that part with them, without noticing that the resentment isn't just because of Ice, it's about Mav too.

The kid is going to be pissed because they are not Ice. Bradley is going to be too worried about making it up to a dead man through his child that he's going to neglect the very much still alive man he ALSO has to make amends with.

But Ice didn't have a direct hand in pulling his papers, so Bradley understands his mistake with him (he shouldn't have cut him out over someone else's mistake). Mav, however, did have a direct hand and he's still bitter about it. And the kid sees it. They see him doing exactly that.

Bradley is focusing on the wrong thing, because he's trying to redeem himself in an impossible way, trying to answer to someone who no longer demands it.

He goes after it because the silence is a more comfortable answer than the conflict he's bound to face from someone who's still alive.

In the process, he's going to hurt Mav.

Bradley's gonna be so caught up in making it up to Ice (the one he can no longer make up to) that he doesn't think to properly make it up to Mav (the one he can still make it up to) because he thinks he has to.

Ice is gone. Ice is gone and there's nothing he can do about it. And If he'd just changed his mind earlier maybe there could have been. Admittedly, Ice still would have died, but maybe he'd have died more settled than he did. He'd have died with the knowledge that his son came back. That his son still cared. But he didn't, and Bradley hates himself for it.

So, he veers to the kid. He doesn't outright apologize other than the first time, but he's gonna treat them like either a piece of glass or a carbon copy of his father figure. Regardless, they're going to hate him for it.

It's not them he cares for, it's what he sees them as. They can see straight through his bullshit because there's no deep emotional connection there to blind them.

They could try to care and love for him for Mav's sake, but it'd be much better if it were on their own terms, that Bradley would care for them as them and not as Ice's child.

On top of that, the neglect Bradley has for Mav is humongous. And he himself doesn't see it because the resentment he feels is still there. Mav was the one who pulled his papers. He blames Mav for his own decisions.

He's alone, and he blames Mav. He doesn't let anyone in or near, and he blames Mav. But it wasn't Mav that made him shut everyone out, he did that on his own.

He hasn't thought about why Mav did what he did, choosing to believe what Mav claimed to be the reason. It's blatantly obvious that Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell of all people would never stop someone from going to the Academy because he thought they aren't capable. That's what they did to him, he's not going to do that to someone who is virtually his son.

Bradley was irrational and stuck to that irrationality for fifteen years. He used the emotional stuntedness he himself created as a guise to not actually process what happened. He refused to think about it, and still does.

He and Mav reconnected after the mission, but it's a frail margin. Bradley was more inclined to listen because he's confused that Mav cares at all. In his rage, he didn't notice that he did it out of love, and doesn't know what to do with it. The entire training, he's confused, pissed and uncertain all the while.

He still doesn't know the real reason Mav did what he did, and doesn't understand the love he still sees in his eyes. Rooster thought that he shattered everything he had with Mav when he felt, most of all cemented it with all the time spent in that state.

By the end of the movie, he knows for certain that Mav loves him, and understands that he, himself, never stopped loving Mav either, despite what he claimed.

Bradley wanted to be a pilot because of his dad. Goose wasn't a pilot. Maverick was.

The betrayal hit him harder because he wasn't running after Goose, he was looking up to Mav. He wanted to be like Mav.

And he became a pilot, even when Mav pulled his papers, even after having the person he did it all for ripped him into shreds. He still did it.

He still wanted to be like Mav. Deep down, he still saw him as a role model even through all of the repression.

But he still doesn't know why. He doesn't know why Mav did what he did, because Maverick himself refused to say why.

Mav isn't going to be doing great either. He fucked up, and he fucked up big time. He shouldn't have pulled Bradley's papers, period. I know about Carole, but still. He should have communicated with Brad about it, and they'd fight about it, but Bradley wouldn't have walked out to never return then.

To worsen matters, Maverick has a horrendous martyr complex that makes him take the brunt of Bradley's resentment instead of Carole, the actual perpetrator.

Over the years, he's blamed himself more and more every year that passed, but I don't believe he ever regretted it.

He fulfilled Carole's last wish. It didn't stop Rooster from becoming a pilot. He gave both of them what they wanted.

But he's trying to protect the Carole Bradley has in his head because he doesn't want to stain his memory of her as he did with himself. This has been discussed a hundred times over, so I will try to be brief.

Mav is scared that instead of him, Bradley's gonna resent his mother. His dying, cripple mother that said that in her death bed. His widow mother who saw her husband die in the skies and didn't want her baby boy to have the same fate. His sorrowful mother that had to watch her friend, someone she considered a little brother, keep going up into those same skies and hear all the whispers the people on the ground flung upon him because of it.

So he took it all on himself. Because he sees himself as expendable in favor of her.

So, safe to say he's not going to be the one to tell Bradley the truth. Because of it, Bradley's resentment is going to continue to fester.

After the mission, Bradley knows that Mav's not telling him everything, but he refuses to talk about it so what the hell is he going to do?

They fix things well enough for them to talk to each other, but don't make it too deep in fear of opening up more wounds instead of stitching the old ones back together.

Mav thinks this is as good as he can get. Bradley is annoyed at Mav's hesitance.

Despite mending things, Bradley is still going to think all of his problems are Mav's fault. And he's a petty bitch, so he won't let it slide.

He hasn't properly processed it due to the lack of information, and can't let go because of it.

He's going to slip in dry comments about how Mav affected his mental health and life because of what he did. He's going to be cagey about everything that happened in the in between. He's not going to know basic shit about Mavericks life because he refuses to acknowledge that he was wrong in more than one way.

And Mav's gonna fucking take it.

He's not gonna say anything, not gonna even defend himself because he thinks he deserves it.

Bradley is a stubborn fuck whose pride has been hurt once, and refuses to acknowledge that it could be hurt again. He's just like Mav when he was younger, but ten times worse in the emotional department (I have no fucking idea how he managed that, but he did).

So yeah, soon enough they're going to be balls deep in miscommunication with grudges held close to their chest.

Maverick wants to communicate but doesn't want to communicate a very important piece of information that could potentially make things better and Bradley straight up doesn't want to if he doesn't have to.

Which means they're going to come to a stand-still. And someone is gonna have to interfere.

If I were to guess, it'd either be Slider or Sarah (Kazansky). Regardless if Sarah is Ice's sister or wife (up to interpretation), she knew how important Mav was to Ice and obviously cares about him too from the few scenes we got of her. Slider also knows, and it's obvious he also genuinely cares about Mav too despite claiming otherwise.

I'd honestly vote for Slider to be the one to do it, simply because he'd also see the Ice favoritism and the Mav neglect, and would pull Bradley's ear about it to hell and back. Because he also knew Goose, and this... entire thing is not something Goose would be happy about, at all. Slider has a much more subdued connection to Bradley, so he'd have no qualms about calling him out on everything.

Especially if he ever found out that Bradley said 'My dad trusted you, I'm not going to make the same mistake.' I sorely believe Slider would end up in jail if he ever heard about that one.

If Sarah were the one to do it, she'd probably be more understanding and much less violent than Slider, but she'd be blunt. That's still someone she cares deeply for they're talking about, and she also saw all of it. She wouldn't sugar coat what needs to be said, but she'd be understanding too. Not you did nothing wrong kind of understanding, but a you had your reasons to be upset kind of understanding.

Either of them would probably do this without Maverick's consent, because that's the only way to get it done.

When Bradley finally comes to know exactly why Mav did what he did, he's gonna be in shambles. Not only for Mav, but for himself.

His entire life has been built around that single happenstance and now it's gone, he was wrong. He was so wrong. He can't go back to being the way he was, he doesn't remember how he was.

He's gonna have to start over, rebuild himself from the ground up to be someone better and spare everyone in his life the suffering. Everyone in his life has suffered the consequences of his resentment. He doesn't know if he can make up for it.

To start over, step number one is apologize.

This right here is were he finally lets his ego drop, and fully apologizes to Mav. Finally owns up to his mistakes to the person that deserves it most. He's not gonna leave Mav be, he's definitely going to demand a full explanation from him and then is going to scold him for it, but he's gonna finally fully let go of the grudge he held this entire time.

That's to say, everything isn't a sea of roses.

Maverick isn't the only person he needs to apologize to, and on top of it, Maverick is probably the only one who is going to let him down easy.

Bradley is going to be on a tight leash with everybody else for a while, and they don't have any hold ups about calling him out on his bullshit. He's going to need to learn how to take critique to improve himself rather than read it as a straight up insult that he's going to get mad about.

Maverick is going to need to learn that Bradley isn't going to up and leave, and that he shouldn't hold himself to such low standards. Not only that, he's also going to need to learn that Bradley is bound to make mistakes just like any other human.

Bradley is still gonna fuck up in some places, but he's gonna be better at recognizing it. Mav's also gonna fuck up sometimes, but he's going to get better at accepting it and moving on.

With time, Mav is going to call Bradley out on his bullshit too, and Bradley is going to do the same when Mav starts doing his 'I'm less important than other people' shit.

They're going to be sad about it because they think that the reason the other does some of the things they do is because of themselves, but that's a story for another time.

They try. That's what matters.

#by the lord this is basically a fic in and of itself #I am so sorry this is so long #if this has all been said before in like hundreds of Hangster fics and im a dumbass I apologize #I don't read Hangster #perhaps I only ever see Mav's side on this because of it #that's why I focused so hard on Bradley's here #I know this sounds a lot like rooster slander but I swear it wasn't meant to be #Rooster is incredibly emotionally constipated and there's no way in hell they'd fix everything immediately #he's held onto the grudge this long #there's no way he's letting it all go all at once #that's only going to hurt him #like when you run a marathon #you're not supposed to stop all at once. it needs to be a slow decent in speed #otherwise you're going to get fucked up by yourself.#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun #top gun 1986 #tgm #tg86 #character analysis #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #top gun maverick #iceman x maverick #tom iceman kazansky #me: says that the child OC doesn't necessarily need to be a kid #also me: proceeds to call them 'kid' one line down

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jaidens · 1 year ago

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The sand from your hair is blowin' in my eyes Blame it on the beach, grown men don't cry

pairing [s] : bradley bradshaw x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : crying, anxiety, death, drinking | angst with comfort!

a/n [s] : requests are open!

Bradley sits on the beach, but he feels a million miles away from everything.

You sit next to him as you tell him about work recently and how your coworker did something. Admittedly, he wasn't listening like he usually did, but he stares at the breaking waves and the wind that slips through his cloth Old Navy t-shirt and the shorts he brought to swim in.

Bradley grew up without a father figure after he was five years old. He only had the distinct memories of Goose, his Uncle Maverick, and his mother. He craved the feeling of being able to hug his dad one last time, not just staring at the picture of his Little League team and his father's dumb mustache and Ray-Ban Caravans that sit on his nose.

Bradley sits next to him with a dumb, blond bowl cut and a huge smile as he sits with Goose in his arms. He craves that feeling of being a kid, without worry. He's beside himself as the tears blur the sunset and ocean out of his view, striking like a broken mirror.

“Bradley..” A quiet voice is let through to his ears, as he covers his face with his hands and curls in on himself. “Hey, hey what's wrong?” He can't pull himself to look at you, the person he truly loves as you let your hand touch his arm softly.

Bradley found love, and was able to tell his mother as she laid sick that he was happy. After his father's death, he couldn't live for himself to love. Until Carole had slapped some sense into her son, telling him to find love and that everything will start to make sense. He heard all the stories growing up about Goose's romantic gestures of singing Great Balls of Fire; dedicated to his lovely wife.

When he found you, sitting at the bar sipping on a Sprite and eating one of Penny's famous dinner foods, he knew he was in love. He was freshly out of the Flight Academy, young and dumb when he met you. His mustache barely growing in and still wearing his college baseball shirts.

“Brad, don't ignore me. I know you can hear me.”

One thing about Bradley was his ignoring of problems. His therapist had tried to work him out of the habit, after the dangers of almost getting hurt in the plane after he disregarded Maverick’s commands. It also stood for emotionally ignoring. A year ago, Bradley would have never talked and would've let it out with anger and crying if he was confronted with a problem he wasn't sure how to solve.

“I—I–...” Bradley begins before that frog in his throat appears, biting on his tongue. The tears well up in his eyes, as he takes his hand and wipes them away. The feeling bubbles up inside of him like a Coke shaken with Mentos inside.

“It’s okay, I'm here.” You remind him softly, making sure to hold his hand to help him further in knowing you weren't leaving him alone.

“Hangman— today he mentioned Goose. Told everyone. Maverick didn't even do anything either, I almost fought him too. Then, I remembered Dad. He would've despised me if I used violence.”

“And– and, Maverick keeps bugging me about just fixing my relationship with him. I have no reason too! He pulled my papers!” Bradley stops when he starts practically sobbing, tears running down his face and hands shaking. The anger mixes into his sadness and fear of everything.

He feels embarrassed acting like this in front of you— a grown man crying in someone's arms about another grown man. Bradley feels the weight of his body falling off of him as you rub his back with your hand, and keep on hand raking in the curls of the back of his head.

“Bradley, whatever Hangman said, was unacceptable. Hopefully he apologizes because you do not deserve that at all.” You said. “Maverick loves you Bradley, he basically raised you. What he did as well was horrible, but from what I know about Mav, it was probably meant to happen.”

Bradley takes your words to heart, holding onto your hand now with an actual grip. His lip quivers while he feels your thumb trace over his knuckles. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffles quietly. You smell like salt water and coconut as he lays in the curve of your neck and shoulder. “Thanks.” Bradley says a few minutes later.

Bradley stares at you, the soft smile you have and his big Ford Bronco t-shirt you have on. You look ethereal in the golden and pink hues that collect in the San Diego sky. He feels your connection that wraps your souls together. He's so in love with you, and he thanks whatever big guy is up there, that puts you and him together.

“Why?” You ask him back, looking down at him at where he lays.

“Because. You're always there for me. Always say the right things.” Bradley admits softly. Messing with the towel you have laid on the ground. “It’s why I love you so much.”

His words are anything but foreign to your ears. You smile at him and see him still finding his breath after the cry that he needed to get out of him. “I love you too. I will never stop loving you.”

He feels closer to everything, you as well as himself. Bradley hopes his mother can see him now, holding the person he loves in his arms.

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hard-deck-confessions · 1 year ago

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After his mother, Bradley’s favorite person was always Maverick. His earliest memory was sitting on top of the piano at Kansas City Barbeque while his dad and Mav belted out a less than beautiful rendition af Great Balls of Fire and then being carried out dozing off in Mav’s arms. Although, he's not sure if he really remembers that day or if he can just picture it so vividly because Mav talked about it so often. Mav talked about a lot of memories with Goose. He told some stories so much, Bradley had them memorized word for word.

Mav was a constant in Bradley's childhood. He made sure he was there for every birthday, every Christmas, and on the anniversary of Goose's death he always took Bradley and Carol out for the night. If he was on land near by, he was there every Wednesday for family dinner—there was always an extra place set for Goose those nights.

When Bradley was in 3rd grade and didn't want to be in his school's Father's Day program, Mav dropped everything to be there, he didn't even bother to change out of his jumpsuit. He didn't care that he would face discipline for rushing off before debriefing; the look on Bradley's face when he saw Mav right next to his mom in the front row was enough to get him through a lifetime of reprimands.

Mav was the one who taught Bradley to ride a bike. He put band-aids with (somehow) poorly drawn smiley faces on every scraped knee and elbow during the very long process because, while Bradley might have been a natural pilot, biking did not come as easy. Mav took him to ball games on the weekends in the summer when he could and made sure he had the best swing on his little league team. He helped him fix up Goose’s old truck and then taught him to drive it. He never lost his temper, but instead laughed every time Bradley stalled it.

“Damnit!” Bradley would yell, slamming his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. “I swear, I'm never going to get this thing out of the neighborhood!"

“Just calm down and try again, kid.” Mav would say with a smile a mile wide. “You've got this."

Mav was the only person Bradley thought to call at 3am after hiking a mile in the pouring rain to the nearest gas station because he'd gotten his truck stuck in a ditch taking a corner too fast. Mav was there in 20 minutes. And instead of reprimanding him about his carelessness, Mav bought the shivering teen a hot chocolate and told him the story of how he wrecked his dad's old beloved car when he was in high school.

When Bradley graduated from high school, Mav gave him Goose's helmet. He'd pulled strings 16 years prior to keep the helmet from being repurposed for another pilot and paid a pretty penny to get it, but he'd never tell Bradley that. Bradley only found out when he joined the Navy himself.

Maverick loved Bradley like his own kid, and he felt responsible for him because, despite what any military hearing said, he would always blame himself for Goose’s death. That was why pulling his papers was the hardest decision he'd ever made and the easiest at the same time. He tried not to regret it, but Maverick hated feeling Bradley pull away from him; he hated that he wasn't one of the kid’s favorite people any longer.

But Bradley's favorite person never stopped being Maverick, it was only Rooster that couldn't face Captain Pete Mitchell.

Until he could.

- Hazard

#yes i know Mav's dad is dead i just wasn’t gonna put late-father's car #top gun #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #carol bradshaw #headcanon #top gun headcanons #headcannons #f-14 tomcat #captain pete mitchell #rooster top gun #mavdad

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ilikereadings · 1 year ago

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A day on the water

Summary: Penny and Maverick invite you and Bradley for a day out on their boat

Warnings: just pure sweetness and fluff, nothing dirty, water/big bodies of water, use of Y/N

Words: 1.3k

Note: this is my first time writing anything, if there is anything I can improve please let me know! Hope you enjoy :)

❗️I wrote this all myself please don’t repost❗️

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Work for Bradley had been more on the heavy side this week, so when Penny and Maverick had invited you and Rooster on a day out on the water on Penny’s sail boat, he was quick to accept the invitation. When Bradley had told you about your plans for Sunday with Penny and Mav, you were more than thrilled.

Saturday night you and Bradley had a night in, watching your favourite movies and just embracing each other to decompress after a long week of work. Then Sunday rolled around and you were so excited to get to spend a day on the water with Maverick, Penny, and especially, Bradley. Although you and Bradley were in no rush, you packed everything up for the day an hour and a half before you left.

Around 12:30 you and Bradley got to the dock where Penny and Mav were. You were wearing your bathing suit and one of Bradley’s shirts, which was so big on you it went down half your thighs. Rooster was wearing his swim trunks which were pineapple print, and one of his dads old Hawaiian button up shirts. When you got on the boat, Penny greeted you with a hug while Maverick gave you a warm hearted smile.

You talk to Penny as Bradley heads over to Mav to talk to him. “Oh my gosh Penny, you look great! Thank you for inviting us!” You start the conversation. “It’s no problem really, Pete was telling me that Bradley was having a tough week at work and we haven’t seen you in a while, so I thought we should make it a double date!”

After a little chit chat, the boys untie the boat from the dock, and you all take off. Penny had put on a mixed playlist and ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You smiled contently as you made your way to sit down on one of the benches. When you were seated, you took your shirt off and grabbed the sunscreen from your bag. As you started to apply the sunscreen Bradley had started making his was to you. You had decided to wear a simple but cute blue bathing suit, showing a little cleavage, but not too much because you wanted to be more modest than some of the other bathing suits only Bradley gets to see. You look up at him with a sweet smile and he leans down to you to whisper “You look good y’know?” His face changing to a more lustful look. You smile even bigger and hit him playfully on the arm and quietly scold him. “Bradley Bradshaw! We are here to spend time with our friends, get your mind out of the gutter!” Bradley starts laughing which makes you start laughing as well. Both of you calm down, and Bradley offers to put sunscreen on your back.

The four of you collectively agree to stop for a bit in the middle of the water to relax for a while. “Y/N, wanna come help me get lunch ready?” Penny asks, once the boat is anchored down. “Of course! Be right there!” You reply. Turning and kissing Bradley on the cheek before getting up to help. You only take a few steps away before Bradley shouts out “Lookin’ good honey!” You turned and gawked at him, your face flushed, Bradley and Maverick trying to hold in their laughs at your expression. You continue on to help Penny get the food out of the containers and onto some paper plates to eat.

After you all had ate, everyone was just relaxing, listening to music, watching the ocean, and talking a bit more. That’s when ‘Great Balls of Fire’ by Jerry Lee Lewis came on and you just had to get up and dance with Bradley. So, you stood up and grabbed him by the hands pulling him off the bench and into an open space of the boat. You of course knew the meaning of this song to him and Mav, but you also loved this song and wanted to dance. As you and Bradley danced to the song, the four of you sang along and laughed throughout. During the verse,

“Kiss me baby.. Mmmm feels good”

Both Pete and Bradley kissed their girls tenderly on the cheek. As the song ended, Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and spun you around with a smile big enough it was making the corners of his eyes crinkle. When he set you down, you wrapped you hand around his waist, lean up on your tip toes and connect your lips to Bradley with pure love. You took it all in as he sweetly kissed you back, but then you feels his hands creep up you sides.. and he starts tickling you. You burst out laughing and pull away from him, trying to pry his hands off of you. While Bradley continues to tickle you, he lifts you up and walks to the edge of the boat. You quickly catch on to what he’s doing and start playfully hitting him saying things such as “Don’t you dare Bradshaw!” And “I’ll get you back you Rooster!” And finally.. Bradley drops you off the side of the boat, but before you fell too far you grabbed him and pulled him in with you. You both fell into the water giggling and soaked. While Bradley swam over to you, Penney and Mav came to the edge of the boat to make sure you were okay. The only confirmation they needed was hearing your love filled laughs. When Bradley swam over to you he pulled you in, kissing the top of your head and giving Mav a thumbs up. You turned to Rooster and tried to look mad at him, but the more you looked into those brown puppy dog like eyes, your face lightened and you pulled him in for another sweet kiss on the lips. Tasting the salt water on his lips, you moved yours hands to the bottom of his hair on his neck. Then you heard someone say from the boat “Get a room will y’a?!”, you and Bradley separate and looks up to see Penny hitting Pete on the arm while Maverick was chuckling to himself. Just to show Mav, you quickly threw yourself onto Bradley, jokingly sloppily kissing his face and shoving the both of you underwater. When you came back up you swam to the ladder and got back on the boat while teasing Maverick by saying “That good enough for you?” Maverick just shakes his head and laughs at the two of you looking like wet dogs. Bradley notices how you start to shiver a little, he slowly slides his arm around your shoulders and guides you to the bench you were on before and sits you there. He goes into the bag you had packed nice and early this morning and got the towels out. He wrapped your towel around your shoulders and his around his hips. Bradley sits down next to you and once again puts his arm around you and starts rubbing your arm and bringing you in closer to him to try and warm you up. A little smile creeps up onto your face as you snuggle into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. You look over to Maverick who also has his arm draped over Penny’s shoulder, he smiles widely at you. “You don’t know how happy it makes me seeing you two together. You remind me so much of Carole and Goose. The way Rooster cares for you, Y/N and how you guys goof around together. It makes me miss your parents Rooster, but it makes me feel like they’re still here, their spirits in you two.” Maverick admits. You couldn’t help the happy tear that fell down your cheek onto Bradley’s shoulder. Bradley looked at you, then kissed your forehead. “I love you so much Y/N/N” Bradley says to you. “I love you too Bradley” you say back with the sweetest smile and a peaceful look in your eyes.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading!! If you have any suggestions for change or improvements let me know! I hope you enjoyed!

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #tom cruise #top gun fanfiction #top gun #top gun maverick #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #rooster imagine #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #fluff

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lottesreads · 1 year ago

Text

Why Me? - Part 3

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Cursing, insecurities, pining, mommy issues, mentions of throw up (no actual), drunkenness

Word Count: 7580

Summary: Friday night has come and it's time for your not date with Bob! He gets a little wary of why you want to spend time with him, but he's not disappointed when it doesn't go according to plan.

A/N: Hello party people! First of all I suck at summaries, second I started school and got very busy so I apologize for posting this next part literally a month later. Let me know what you think! Also, she's a lot longer than the last two, so please enjoy!

Masterlist

The entire week leading up to Friday Bob was a nervous wreck. Your sudden want to get to know him could only be for some kind of malicious intent. He tried as hard as he could to shoo the bad thoughts away, but they kept crawling back in like a cockroach that refused to die. Sometimes he thought he could set them all on fire and be normal. But that wasn’t something you could do. And that wasn’t Bob. As much as he wished he could have a conversation without something in the back of his mind telling him he was being too awkward, or the other person wasn’t interested in what he had to say, it just wasn’t meant to be.

Everyday you would greet him and everyday Bob would greet you back. His mama didn’t raise him without manners, but each time you started talking to him it got harder for him to stop. He had already opened up to you too much. If you cracked his shell anymore, he was afraid all of his feelings would spill out. And you didn’t need to know how much he thought about you. He couldn’t let you know how beautiful or smart he thought you were because then you would know just how much power you have over him. He didn’t want to believe you would abuse that power in any way, but that voice in the back of his head told him otherwise. The damn cockroach wouldn’t die.

Bob was surprising you once again. Everyday before Friday you would ask him a question hoping it would snowball into a conversation, and everytime it did. It might have been small talk each time about the weather, or how he was doing that day, but it was something. Everyday he would tell you he was doing good, and even told you how he was glad it was starting to cool down in the evenings, presumably so he could take Sylvia on walks. At first you didn’t care that he was lying to you. Whenever he told you he was good, he’d give you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It resembled one you’d give to a passing stranger on the street. Bob wasn’t a complete stranger. Maybe he thought you were? Let’s face it, the only thing he knows about you is your name, the fact that you’re Mav’s kid, and you fly in the Navy. Did he even want to know you?

None of that mattered. You wanted to know him, if he didn’t want to have a conversation with you he was just going to have to tell you up front about it. You so desperately needed him to want to talk to you, though. You could cry every instant he reciprocated a conversation. It was like the neighborhood stray had finally taken a liking to you, and you weren’t going to squander this opportunity. Sure this stray had made some friends and was willing to start a conversation with anyone except you, but it was a start.

That Friday wasn’t anything special at work. Each of you had done a hop or two, ending the day with Maverick assigning everyone paperwork so he could leave early. Much to the chagrin of everyone else.

“Hey now, do I need to get Hondo to come in here and babysit you until this is finished?” A resounding ‘no’ was heard as well as a few groans.

“I can keep an eye on everyone for ya’”, Hangman commented. Placing a toothpick in between his teeth. You and everyone else scoffed at this, Fanboy tossing a paper airplane his way as he swatted it.

“I don’t think that’s necessary Hangman, but thank you.” Mav makes his way through the desks but not before stopping in front of yours. You look up from your work as you raise your brows.

“Can I help you, sir?” He takes a seat in the empty chair next to you.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you’d be alright by yourself for the weekend. Just gotta grab a few things from the hangar.” You discreetly glance around, ensuring none of your coworkers are staring at you as your father, not captain, talks to you.

“Yeah, dad, I’ll be fine.” You laugh.

“Ok, that means no parties, no boys”, he lists off on his fingers. Your eyes widen as you avoid the stares and snickers from around you.

“Oh my god! How old do you think I am?”

“Old enough to know better, I’ll see you Sunday”, he kisses the top of your head as he leaves the hangar, patting Bradley on the chest.

“Bye Daddy!” Hangman shouts as Mav rounds the corner.

“You owe me 50 on Monday Hangman!” He yells back from the hallway.

“Damn it!” Hangman mutters. You laugh as you turn to your work, catching Bob’s eye as you do so. Everyone eventually focuses on their own work and is done by 5:00.

You catch Bob as he’s making his way out the door, walking to your cars together.

“Are you excited?”, you ask him with a giddy smile.

“For you to obliterate me in pool?” You knock shoulders with him.

“Oh come on, where’s that confidence we talked about?” He gives you the same smile. The one that doesn’t reach his eyes that he puts on for your benefit. “You don’t have to come tonight if you don’t want to.” You suggest. This is the only out you’re going to give him, you decide. His head snaps towards you as you both stop before your cars.

“No, I do! It’s just, confidence isn’t my strong suit.” His eyes move to the pavement, avoiding your gaze.

“Hey, it’s not mine either. You just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.” He looks up and gives you a slightly bigger smile this time. You walk backwards towards your car, “I’ll see you in an hour!”

He remains in his spot until you drive out of the lot. How did you make it seem so easy? Bob was good at faking other stuff. Faking smiles, level-headedness, but never confidence.

Once back home, he greets Sylvia, taking care of her before getting ready. Oh gosh, what was he supposed to wear? He’s never had a casual work one-on-one hangout before, or whatever this is. Staring in his closet, he decides on a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. It’ll be fine. Sylvia stares at him from her spot on his bed.

“What?” She cocks her head. “I know, I know, she’s just a coworker that’s it. And that’s all she’s ever gonna be.” He lets that last part out in a whisper. Trailing his eyes from the bed to the mirror in his closet. What would you even see in him? He knows he doesn’t look like any of the other guys on their squad. He’s just a nerd who for some reason you want to absolutely kill in pool. Maybe that was it, he was just another person to practice with. To knock down a few pegs. Build up his confidence just to tear it all down. Stupid cockroach.

You get to the Hard Deck a little early to stake a claim at the usual table. You wave at Penny as you walk in, racking the balls and securing two cues. It’s not too busy right now, but you know that’ll change when the Friday night crowd comes in. Right as you break you spot Bob walking up to you, hands in the pockets of his jeans. The black t-shirt hugging his biceps just right.

“Hey sailor.”

“Now if I’d have known you were coming here early to practice I wouldn’t have shown up at all.” You let out a laugh at his comment. “Save my dignity.”

“Now Bob”, you align your shot, “in order to lose dignity you have to have it in the first place.” His smile is wide and mouth is open as you turn back around.

“Oh that’s how it’s gonna be now?” You shrug and hand him a cue.

“You’re stripes.” He takes the cue from you and lets a crooked smile replace his shock. In that instant you know that’s the real one. He doesn’t try to present it to you, it’s just his natural smile. One you think would rarely be captured on camera. God do you wanna take a picture and just stare at it. You shake your head at the thought. Teammate. He is your teammate and you are doing this for the team.

You learn that Bob was not lying when he said you’d obliterate him. You end up winning unsurprisingly, but decide to give him a little mercy.

“Alright, now that the practice round is done, you ready to actually play?”

“That was only the practice round?”

“Come on, now that you’ve got a taste you’re ready for it.”

“If you say so.” Bob starts to rack the balls as you retrieve drinks. A coke for him and a beer for you. You were still planning on driving home, so this was the only drink you were planning on having tonight. The key word there: planning.

Penny hands you your drinks and you maneuver your way back to Bob, only it wasn’t Bob leaning over the table and taking a shot. A large Hawaiian shirt was obstructing your view as he stood back up.

“Rooster.” He turns around victoriously after making his shot. Face falling into a smug smile.

“Mantis.”

“What are you doing?” “What’s it look like?”He returns to the table and takes another shot, “I’m beating Phoenix.” You look across the table and spot Phoenix giving you an apologetic smile. Bob at her side giving a similar look.

“No, I mean what are you doing at my table? Bob and I were in the middle of a game.” He misses his next shot allowing Phoenix to take hers. “Really Phoenix?”

“Bob said it was ok, you hadn’t started yours yet.” She defends. You look at Bob again and he walks over to you.

“Really it’s fine” he comments, “we can take turns.” You hand him his drink.

“Fine.” Rooster saddles up to your other side, resting his hands on the cue.

“Oh come on, did mommy never teach you to share?” Your grip around the neck of your bottle tightens as he smiles at his own joke. A couple laughs sound from around you, alerting to the fact Coyote and Hangman have shown up.

“Low blow dickwad.” You peer over his shoulder, “Phoenix, let us know when you’re done beating his ass.” With that you walk over to the wall of the bar and take a seat, setting the beer down on the table, rubbing the condensation from your hands on your jeans. Bob follows and sits next to you.

“I’m sorry.” Bob lets out, you glance over and notice the sullen expression on his face. Completely wiping Rooster’s last comment from your mind.

“It’s fine, you were just being nice. Rooster over there just knows how to get under my skin, and I thought he pushed you off our table.”

“Oh no, they asked nicely.” He reassures you. He follows your gaze to Rooster as you scowl. “What’s up with you and Rooster anyway?” You shake your head as he prepares himself to ask his next question, “Is he an ex?”

You nearly spit your drink out as your eyes widen in terror, “Oh god no! That’s disgusting.” Bob lets out a breath of relief. “No, he actually used to be like a brother to me.”

“What happened?” You look at him as you take a sip of your drink, not wanting to get Bob involved in your family life.

“That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time”, your stomach clenches as you stare at his wide eyes, so earnest in everything he’s been saying. Now it’s his want to get to know you that has you shifting in your seat. Unaware of a set of eyes watching your entire interaction.

Phoenix’s whistle breaks your gazes away from each other as you walk over to the table.

“How’d you do Phoenix?”

“Not very good, Bradshaw here beat me.” You look at her in utter disappointment. “What can I say, he’s good.” You scoff as Bob starts to rack the balls. You stare at Rooster from across the table.

“He’s not as good as he likes to think.” You let Bob break and the game begins. Your attention focuses back to him as the rest of the squad linger around the edge. Your smile comes easy when you talk to Bob, almost completely forgetting about everyone else. So far he’s doing a lot better than he was in your practice round, but it’s still not good enough. You call your last shot before it falls in, smiling at Bob apologetically.

“There is no way he wasn’t letting you win”, you turn around and find Rooster waiting for his turn.

“Excuse me?”

“If my memory serves correctly, you were absolutely horrible the last time I played you.”

“The last time you played me I was like 12. I’ve had time to practice while you’ve been deteriorating.” That does it as he stands up and stalks toward you.

“You calling me old?” You stand toe to toe with him, not about to back down.

“Yeah I am, unless you’re up for a rematch old man?”

“You’re on.” The entire squad is staring at the both of you as Fanboy resets the table, delighted in what he’s about to see. “Say, since we don’t have to fly tomorrow, care to make this interesting?”

“What? Worried you’re gonna bore us all to death?”

“Nah, I just wanna see if you can hold your liquor as well as you can shoot. For every shot you miss, you take one. Dealer’s choice.” You squint at him, not willing to back down from the challenge.

“Fine, tequila. Loser pays.” You push your cue into Rooster’s hands as you turn to take Bob’s. “I am so sorry about this Bob, just let me beat him real quick and then we’ve got the table to ourselves.” He hesitantly gives up his cue.

“Are you sure about this?” You pat his shoulder.

“I’m gonna be fine.” He gives you a small smile and nod, relinquishing the little control he has of the situation.

The game begins as Rooster breaks, taking a shot provided by Payback as you take your turn. The game continues on, you only taking two shots while Rooster has three. He’s starting to slip up, making you more confident. You look up and smirk at Bob as a striped ball falls into the pocket across from him. You move to take your next shot as Rooster leans down next to you.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“What do you mean? I’m here to pummel you.”

“I mean with Bob.” You turn your head to look at him, then to Bob before aligning your shot.

“What are you talking about?” You pull your stick back, before striking the cue ball he gets closer.

“I just thought I’d remind you that fraternization is strictly forbidden.” Your hand slips as your shot goes way off the course you intended. You look up at him as he stands. “Don’t wanna see you get kicked off this team.” He hands you a shot as you take it, your eyes closing. Your heart is beating erratically. There is no way he knows you like Bob. Not a chance in hell. You glance back at Bob as he gives you a thumbs-up, then back to Rooster’s concentrated face as he lines up his next shot.

The game continues to stay pretty even after that, shot after shot missed, the alcohol making it harder to stay accurate. You have one striped ball left on the table as Rooster attempts to end it all. Thinking this is gonna be it, you turn to Phoenix and in a whisper yell ask, “Do you think you could give me a ride later? I think I’m drunk!”. She smiles and pats your shoulder, whisper-yelling back.

“You’re lucky I knew this was gonna happen, of course I can!” Hearing Rooster and a couple others groan you turn around and notice he missed his shot. This was it, you make these last two and you win. You shut your eyes hard, attempting to get rid of some of the drunken haze.

The striped ball was a clean shot into the pocket and you let out a breath of relief. It was all down to this. Rooster is staring you down from his seat, making you a little nervous. You bend down and align your shot, taking one glance back up finding Bob. He gives you a crooked smile and you focus back on the table, “Left corner.” Everyone holds their breath as you draw back, hitting the cue, driving the 8 ball into your chosen pocket. Cheers erupt from around you as you place the cue back on the table. Your gaze meets Rooster again, this time it’s you with the smug smile, “Hope you learned your lesson grandpa!” A few oohs are heard as Bob walks over to you, holding his hands out for a couple high-fives.

“You’re amazing, that was awesome!” Everything around the table goes quiet. You continue to stare at him, attempting to say something but nothing coming out.

Something had changed. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the lighting, or maybe just Bob, but you realized every time you saw him your heart sped up a little and your stomach dropped. If you thought about it, this wasn’t even the first time this happened. This is just the first time you understood why. You were sure he could see it happen in real time. The way his eyes flicked down to your open mouth and back up to your glazed over expression.

“Are you ok?”he asks, concern drawing his features in. You could barely hear him through all the static ringing through your ears. You saw his mouth move and continue to stare at it through groggy eyes until you look upward. You were sure you and everything around you was moving in slow motion.

“What?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. His brow furrowed even more at your question.

“I asked if you were ok?” Oh no. He saw right through you. Jutting out your bottom lip and blinking wide you respond, trying to act as casual as ever.

“Yep. Everything is just great.” His eyes scan you once more. He steps toward you, obviously concerned, and as much as you want him to get closer, you turn to see Bradley’s eyes on you. Even through the haze, you can sense the suspicion in them. He didn’t actually know anything, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. Still looking at Bradley, you barely make out Bob’s voice.

“Are you sure? You kinda had a lot to drink” You look back to him and nod, trying to give him a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, you let out in a high pitched voice. You take a step back hoping to create some distance between the two of you, and before you can even fully set your foot on the spilled beer beneath your shoe, you feel yourself falling backwards. In a matter of seconds before you can reach the floor, Bob grabs one of your outreached arms, his other steadying you by your hip. He pulls you close to his chest as you regain your balance. A small squeal leaves your mouth as you’re left feeling Bob. His large hands on your bare arm, your hip, and his chest against yours. It’s almost too much. It is too much. Your heart rate has sped up from almost falling, but it is not coming down anytime soon. Your breath is starting to go shallow as you look up to Bob’s face, eyes blown wide on both of you. The contrast of everything moving too slowly to almost too fast has you dizzy. That or the fact you are close enough to Bob you can feel the heat emanating off of his skin, his scent infiltrating your senses. You need to breathe in the oxygen around you, but you only want to so you can keep breathing him in instead.

Everything surrounding the two of you ceases to exist. The beat from the jukebox fades into your and Bob’s heartbeats, beating simultaneously at their own pace. You don’t want to blink and miss a second of being this close to him. Who knows when you’d get another chance? Thinking this has sobered you up, you try to focus on his deep blue eyes. Have they always been this blue? If he allowed it, you could drown in those oceans he seems to hide behind those wire frames.

The dizziness is sneaking back in the longer you stare. Oh god. How long have you been staring? And more importantly how long has he been staring back? His eyes look between yours as you try to keep up. The motion makes your head spin even more. He swallows as your sight follows the bob of his Adam's apple, making you shiver. He opens his mouth once more.

“Are you alright?”, he breaks the spell he put you under. His voice is softer but just as deep as his grip continues to hold you upright. God, you can still feel his large hands on you. Your face is hot, you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or Bob. The ambience from the bar resumes around you, seemingly louder than it was before. You stare back at his eyes once more, trying to decide which of them to focus on. Oh no, that’s a bad idea. Your head rings as you lose focus on his face in front of you.

“I think I had too much to drink '', you manage to slip out. In an attempt to see if anyone had witnessed your drunken “fall”, your head lulls back and creates dark spots in your vision.

“Whoa, ok!” Bob’s grip tightens around your arm and hip as your legs start to give out. He glances around and finds an empty chair to set you in, walking you backwards until you fall unceremoniously in the sticky blue seat. Your eyes are drooping but a small smile remains on your face. He allows his hand to leave your hip, while the other remains on your arm. “Hey Mantis?”. You continue to stare through that drunk smile, eyes blinking at a slow rate. “Mantis?” He furrows his brow. And then he says your name. Not your call-sign. Not Mitchell. Your given first name. Without skipping a beat you pipe up.

“Yes Robert?”. You begin to giggle uncontrollably at your use of his name. Bob wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t want to hear you say his name again. He so desperately did, but right now you were drunk. And he needed to get you home safe. Still, he can’t help but smile at your child-like laughter, questioning the sudden switch from out of breath to laughing.

“Do you have a ride home?”

“Yep!” Bob waits for you to tell him who, giving up as you continue to stare at him with a dopey smile.

“Can you tell me who it is?” He asks slowly.

“Oh! It was Phoenix”.

“Really? Phoenix offered to be your DD?”

“Yeah”, you furrow your brows, your head falls back as you try to spot her, “but I haven’t been able to find her.” Bob, as if on instinct, jumps forward and braces his hand on the back of your neck to prevent you from hurting yourself. You rest the weight of your head in his hand, placing your complete trust in the fact he won’t let you go. He stares down at you as you look up at him. A small laugh slips through your lips. “Hi.” Bob once again can’t help but smile. For a moment he lets himself admire your soft features in the lighting of the Hard Deck. The warm lighting offers up how your smile causes the skin around your eyes to crease. It’s not forced by any means, just content. And he can’t help but believe you are. The cockroach is nowhere to be found as he looks down at you.

“Hi”, he gets out through his smile. He glances up from you and finds Phoenix still at the pool table with Rooster and Coyote. Farther away now that he has you at a table. He looks back down at you only to notice your gaze never tore away from him. “Are you gonna be ok if I go and grab Phoenix?”. Your eyes roll back as you sigh.

“I guess”, you let out dejectedly. Bob lets out a small laugh through his nose at the sight. His thumb moves of its own accord as he rubs the skin behind your ear.

“I’ll be right back, ok?”

“Promise?”, you ask, your smile falling ever so slightly.

“I promise”, he reassures you. “Can’t leave you too long or you might fall out of your seat. If you need me just holler, ok?”. The smile makes its way back to your face as he continues to caress your skin.

“Ok”, you say just loud enough for him to hear you.

“Ok”. Bob very gently repositions your chair for you to lay your head on the table behind you. It doesn’t look very comfortable but he knows this is the only way you won’t have your head hanging off the back of the seat. You continue to stare at him while he does this, and once he has you properly situated he gives you one last look before walking through the other patrons to get to Phoenix.

As he gets through a few more people to approach the pool table he sees Phoenix as she stands before Rooster with his head in his hands. Bob walks closer to her, hesitant to interrupt their conversation.

“Is everything ok over here?”. Phoenix immediately turns around, obviously taking a break from scolding Rooster.

“Yeah everything’s just great. Bird-brain over here just decided to enter a drinking contest without securing a ride so now I get to take two drunk idiots home.” She motions to Rooster over her shoulder with her thumb. Bob takes a second to look at him, noticing the green hue on his face. Bob’s mouth moves faster than his brain.

“I can take Mantis home.” Phoenix’s brow raises as Rooster looks up through his fingers.

“You will?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I’d feel bad leaving her with you, I’m the reason she came here tonight in the first place.” Bob peaks a glance down at his shoes to avoid the look Phoenix is pointing his way. “Plus, I don’t think Mantis would take too well to riding in the same car with- well with um, Rooster.” Bob looks to Rooster’s half-lidded gaze and back to Phoenix.

“You’ve got a good point there. Ok, so I’ll drag Rooster’s drunk ass back home and you sure you got Mantis? She can be kind of a handful when she drinks too much.” Before Bob is able to verify he’ll get you home safely, Rooster chuckles and pipes up.

“I’m sure Bob could handle a couple handfuls of Mantis’ drunk ass.” Bob’s eyes widen and his face immediately turns red at Rooster’s comment as Phoenix hits his shoulder.

“No! No, I would never get a handful of- of Mantis’ ass- especially if she was, if she was drunk.” He immediately cringes at his own choice of words while Rooster continues to laugh from his seat. Bob takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, not able to meet anyone's line of sight. “What I mean is-”

“Bob”, Phoenix interjects, placing a hand on his shoulder, “it’s fine. We get what you mean, Rooster here is just an asshole.” She punctuates the sentence by hitting him once more.

“Ow”, he lets out, staring at Phoenix with genuinely hurt eyes.

“You’re fine, let’s get outta here before you ralph all over my car.”

“Ok mom.” Bob doesn’t watch as they walk away but hears Rooster cry out in pain once more.

With that all taken care of Bob shoots a text to his neighbor asking to let Sylvia out. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to get you home safely with enough time to take care of her. He makes his way back through the crowd to the table he left you at, but you aren’t there. Bob panics, searching around the bar frantically. There is no way you could have gotten far, especially not in your state. He practically runs to the bar in hopes of asking Penny if she saw where you got to, all while still scanning the room for you. He hears you before he sees you. Sitting at the bar, laughing while talking to Penny herself. He lets out a sigh of relief and allows himself to catch his breath. The scene reminds him of every time he’d see you sitting at that same bar, laughing with someone who wasn’t him. Always too afraid to approach you.

You turn your head and spot him standing there staring at you. Your mouth breaks out in a wide smile as you open your arms. “Ay! It’s Robert! You came back for me!” He walks over to where you sit as Penny wipes down glasses behind the bar. “Penny, he came back!” She smiles at your eagerness.

“I can see that.”

“How’d you get all the way over here?”Bob asks as you lower your hands.

“Well, Robert, like most people I used my feet.”

“Oh, did you now? Cause they didn’t seem to be working too well earlier.” You bob your head in a nod.

“It’s a miracle! I saw Penny like a guiding light and just had to come over to see her” you smile, amazed at yourself. Bob has really got to get you home.

“Well that’s great, I’m glad Penny was able to keep an eye on you. Are you ready to go?” You furrow your brows and look behind him.

“Where’s Phoenix?” You let out through pouty lips.

“Slight change of plan, Phoenix has to take Rooster home so if it’s ok I was gonna be your driver for the night.” You grimace at Rooster’s name, but immediately lighten up at the prospect of Bob taking you home.

“Ok!” Bob is taken aback at your eagerness, afraid you would have only wanted Phoenix to drive you.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” You immediately gasp and turn back toward Penny, “You cannot let my dad know a boy is taking me home!” Penny tries her best to hold back a smile as she looks to Bob who already is mortified at your implication. Penny takes both your hands in her own.

“My lips are sealed”, she mimes zipping and locking her mouth as she lets you go. “Get home safe you two.” Bob nods at her in appreciation as he turns to you.

“Think your legs are still working?” You scoff at him while sliding out from the chair. You get out successfully but as you take your first step you stumble. Bob immediately is behind you, supporting you with both of his arms underneath yours. “Ok, I’ll take that as a no.”

“Hey” you laugh, “they were working earlier!” Readjusting, Bob snakes his arm around your waist, grabbing your arm and throwing it over his shoulders. You immediately quiet as you sink into Bob, allowing him to guide you out of the bar and to his truck. Bob is being as respectful as he can, trying to keep his hand in the exact same spot on your waist. Never wandering. It’s only there to support you, but he can’t help but feel the warmth of you beneath his hand, and the aroma of your floral shampoo just under his nose.

Your hand has a surprisingly firm grip on his shoulder as you trek through the parking lot. The gravel and sand shuffling beneath your feet. It’s a slow journey, as Bob doesn’t want to risk you tripping and falling, but you finally make it. It’s a modest truck, not too big, not too small, but the step to get into it is massive compared to your skillset right now. You look up at the truck as if it’s Mt. Everest. “That’s a big step”, you let out. Your eyes meet the top as your head rolls back. You sway as Bob grips you just a bit tighter.

“Oh that step? Come on, you got this.” You look up at him skeptically. “Here, I’ll help you”. He very slowly turns you around so your back is to the seat and you’re staring up at him. He takes your hands and places them on his shoulders, they have never felt smaller before than they do now on top of him. “Is this ok?” he breathes out, aware of how close you are once again. You squeeze his shoulders, feeling the muscle tense from beneath his t-shirt.

You swallow, “Yeah.” He has got to stop putting himself in this situation.

“Ok, I’m gonna put my hands on your hips and when I say jump, you’re gonna jump and I’m gonna lift onto the seat. Ok?” You nod at him through wide eyes.

“Ok.” Bob finally slides his hands from off of your arms to your hips, squeezing once. Goosebumps break out all over your body, despite the heat radiating off of both of you. “Alright, 1, 2, 3, jump!” You do as he says as he grips your hips, lifting you off of the ground and into his truck. Leaving you more light-headed than you were before. He helps to push your legs into the cab, forcing you to face forward. He steps down and as softly as he can shuts the door, ensuring none of your limbs would get caught.

You watch him round the front as he opens his own door, climbing into his seat with ease. He reaches for his seatbelt before turning to you. “Do you need help with yours?”. You shake your head, reaching for your own. You pull it only for it to get stuck, you pull it again. Still stuck. Bob watches you struggle with it one more time before reaching over, letting it retract into the seat, and then pulling it over you, and buckling it in. The entire time you watch his large hand travel just slightly over your chest and torso, never actually touching you. You turn your face to his, and he looks up to you through his glasses.

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“You’re welcome”, he whispers back. He moves back into his own seat before putting on his seatbelt and starting the truck. The engine roaring to life breaks you out of your quiet trance. The radio starts to play as he pulls out of the parking lot. You can distantly hear him humming to the tune, but you lean your head and stare out the window.

You want to imagine a moment where you’re sober and Bob gives you all this attention, but you come up empty. He’s only doing this out of obligation to get you home safely. God you were so stupid for getting drunk. Tonight was supposed to be about getting to know Bob, not him having to take care of you.

“You doin’ ok over there?”, his voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Mhm”, you smile at him. Still not able to open your eyes quite all the way.

Bob watches as you lean your head against the window once again. He looks back to the road and realizes he’s almost got you home. He feels slight disappointment in his chest. He wants to spend more time with you, but probably knows you won’t want to again when you’re sober. He tries not to dwell on that fact, but hopes this won’t be the last time you end up in his truck. He hopes your perfume lingers after you’re gone so he can remember just how much fun he had with you tonight.

Bob pulls up to your house and puts the truck in park. You must have fallen asleep at some point on the drive because you jolt awake when the engine stops. “Are we here already?” You whine. He leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt.

“I’m afraid we are.” He rounds the truck, opening your door. You instinctively go to place your hands on his shoulders as he grasps your hips and slides you out of the cab. He steadies you again, in the same fashion he did when you left the Hard Deck, and walks you up the steps to the door. After fumbling with your keys you manage to open the door as he helps you walk in.

Bob’s plan was to let your dad take care of you and get you to bed safely, but he doesn’t notice any sign of life. All the lights are off as the both of you stop in the hallway. You grope the wall and let out an “aha” as you turn the light switch on. You wince at the bright light, moving your head to rest in between Bob’s shoulder and neck. He tries his best to slow his breathing as he feels your hot breath on his neck. You must feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest at this point. “Mantis?”

“Yeah”, you whisper into his neck. He shivers.

“Is your dad home?” You sigh, your breath tickling him.

“No, he had to grab some stuff from the desert and won’t be back ‘til Sunday.” Bob’s the one that sighs this time. That must be why he left early today. He reaches behind you two, locking the door. He didn’t like the idea of leaving you drunk and alone in the house, so after he gets you to bed he’s decided on staying on the couch. Just to make sure you’re ok. “Are we having a sleepover?”.

“Yep, we are having a sleepover and now it’s time you go to bed. Where’s your room?”

“Up the stairs to the left” you mumble. There is no way you’re going to be able to walk up the stairs, even with Bob’s help. Deciding it’s in both your best interests to not fall down a flight of stairs, he removes his hand from your waist and moves you to face him.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m gonna pick you up and carry you.” You stare at him with wide eyes and let out a laugh.

“I mean, you can try.” Bob braces his arms beneath your shoulders and knees, bending down and taking you with him as he stands to his full form. You let out a small yelp, surprised at his sudden display of strength. Your arms connect behind his neck as he begins to ascend the stairs. He keeps his eyes forward the entire time, not daring to look down at you and trip. You stare at his bicep straining from underneath his t-shirt, then the hand that grasps you at the knees. Your head is still resting on his shoulder. Bob makes you feel weightless as you lock your eyes on his mouth. His pretty mouth that is so close to your face right now. Even through your drunken haze you can tell he’s trying his best not to breathe too loudly, whether for your sake or his you’re not sure.

All too soon he arrives at your room and gingerly sets you down on your bed. Resting your head carefully on the pillows. He finally takes a glance at your face and then down at your clothes. “Do you have any pajamas you want to change into?” You nod and sit up, pointing to your dresser straight across from your bed. “Which drawer?” He rubs the back of his neck and avoids your gaze, “I don’t wanna see anything you don’t want me to.”

You laugh, “Second drawer from the bottom”. He points at it, checking with you that it was in fact the right one. You nod your head at him. You stare at his back while he leans down and rifles through your pajamas. The sight makes you dizzy, prompting you to lie back into the comfort of your bed once more.

Bob finds a pair of shorts and an old team t-shirt. Those will do. He walks back over to you with the clothes in hand and sets them down. “Do you need to go to the bathroom, brush your teeth?” You open your eyes at him and frown.

“Are you saying my breath smells bad?”.

“No!”Bob wasn’t not saying that. To be frank you smelled like a distillery, but that wasn’t the reason for his concern. “I just know that whenever I don’t brush my teeth I always wake up and feel gross. Don’t want that to happen now, do we?”. You shake your head, frown falling away. Slowly, you sit up and swing your feet over the bed. Bob grabs your arm and helps you walk to the bathroom connected to your room. Gently closing the door, he stays close by in case you fall. He glances at the bed and notices the pajamas he set out for you. Quickly making his way back to the bed he grabs them, knocking on the door as the water runs.

You open it with your toothbrush dangling out of your mouth, eyes half open. He holds the clothes out to you and smiles, “You forgot these.” Grabbing them you thank him, closing the door once more. With his back to you, Bob waits until he hears it open. You emerge in your pajamas, smiling.

“You’re still here.” Bob is immediately concerned at your surprise. Did you want him to leave? What is he talking about, of course you wanted him to leave. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that, I just wanted to make sure you made it to your bed alright.” He holds out his arms once again and you grab onto them. This time he walks backwards until he reaches your bed, making sure you get under the covers. Bob wants to run his hand over the wild mess that is your hair, but he refrains.“Alright, ‘night Mantis.” He starts to make his way to leave your bedroom.

“Where you goin’?”, he hears through the muffle of your pillow. Turning to see you’ve shifted on your side, staring at him through one eye. “I thought we were having a sleepover?”

“We are, I’m just gonna crash on the couch.” You let out a huff.

“Sleepover means you gotta sleep in the same room”, drool is now starting to seep out of your mouth from its position on your pillow. Bob stares at you incredulously.

“Mantis”, he starts.

“Robeeerrrt” you whine. “You gotta make sure I don’t choke on my own throw up in my sleep.” He grimaces at the thought and slips his shoes off, walking over to steal a pillow to set on the floor.

“What are you doin’? Just get in the bed. I have some sweatpants that’ll fit you… I think.” Bob takes up the offer on your sweatpants, searching through the same drawer until he finds them. He turns his head ensuring you’re facing the other way as he changes.

“I’ll be just fine on the floor.” The pants are a little short on his legs but work better than the jeans he was wearing.

“If you’re stayin’ you’re sleepin’ in bed. That’s my final offer.” Through the lamplight he can make out the pout on your face. Staring at the floor and sighing he begrudgingly walks over to the side of the bed pulling back the covers and getting in. He turns over, taking his glasses off and turning the lamp off. Once he’s settled he can only stare at the ceiling as his arms lay clasped over his stomach. His entire body is tense, scared to move a muscle and accidentally touch you.

He can’t believe he’s in your bed right now. This is not how he imagined a sleepover with you going. Obviously you are very drunk and he remains respectful by sticking to his side, but you are lying right next to him. His heart beats at the thought of every time you touched him tonight. It was more than he could bear. Most of them were for stability but he couldn’t help but want it to happen as often as possible.

His thoughts are broken by the sound of the sheets rustling as you move closer to him and lay a hand on his chest. “”Night Bobby.”

He very carefully raises his own and rests it over yours. “Night Mantis.” He doesn’t want the morning to come. You’ll surely be too sick to remember anything, but he’ll remember it all. He shoos his thoughts away as your breaths guide him to sleep, your hand grounding him in this moment. His hand is clasped over yours, your palm right above his heart. Just where it should be.

#bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #mavdad #robert bob floyd x female reader #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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callsign-joyride · 2 years ago

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Paper Airplanes | Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob surprises you at work with lunch, Hangman, and Rooster.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader

Content warnings: Tooth rotting fluff

“Hey, Bob, you going to see the misses for lunch?” Hangman asked. They had been working on paperwork since they got back from an eight-week deployment.

“Yeah, why? Let me guess, you wanna see that second grade teacher. I guess you can come with but I don’t know if she’ll be there.”

“Wait, where are you going? Because if it’s food, I wanna go, too,” Rooster said.

“Baby on board here is gonna get food for Mrs. Bob.”

“We’re going to that sub place close to the school.”

Rooster decided that he was going to go with Bob and Hangman. You took the kids to the library and let them pick out books for silent reading before lunch. This was one of the few times during the day where you were able to answer emails and work on lesson plans. It was easy to lose track of time because of the quiet. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sawyer put his book down and stand up.

“Mrs. Floyd, your boyfriends are here! And I have to potty!” He exclaimed. As if right on cue, Bob threw a paper airplane in your direction and walked in with Hangman and Rooster behind him. The kids started freaking out, and you tried not to laugh when they got swarmed.

“Buddy, I’m married. Let’s get you to the bathroom, though.”

“Then your forever boyfriends are here!”

When you and Sawyer came back a few minutes later, the kids were still all over Bob, Hangman, and Rooster. Sawyer ran over and tugged on the leg of Hangman’s flight suit to get his attention.

“Have you ever killed anyone, Mr. Jake?” He asked. All eyes were on Hangman.

“Uh, no, buddy. I just fly planes and help people.”

“That’s what I wanna do! Let me see your plane!”

“Sawyer, you have to ask nicely.”

“Okay… Mr. Jake, can I please see your plane?”

“Sure, buddy.”

Jake unlocked his phone and pulled up a picture of his jet before kneeling down to Sawyer’s level. You took a picture of the moment and made a mental note to send it to his mom before putting your phone back in your pocket. It was time for the kids to line up for lunch but you knew that they probably weren’t going to listen to you.

“Which one of you wants to help me wrangle these kids to lunch?” You asked.

All three of them helped, and it was somewhat surprising to see the kids immediately start listening. They were quiet during the walk to the cafeteria, which was also surprising considering that you were used to some chatter between kids.

“Will you promise to come back for career day?” Sawyer asked them.

“Maybe. Do you know when career day is, buddy?” Jake asked.

“Two weeks from tomorrow,” you said.

“We’ll have to talk to Mav, but I’m sure he’ll allow it.”

“Who’s Mav?”

“Our boss. You don’t wanna mess with him or else you’ll get grounded,” Rooster said.

“Does he take your toys away? Sometimes if I don’t clean my room, my mom will take my toys away.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bob and Mr. Jake and Mr. Chicken!”

The kids said goodbye and walked into the cafeteria. The four of you waited a few minutes before walking back. As you were walking, a third grader came up and gave each of them a hug. The action threw Jake off and you laughed at the look on his face. You ate in your classroom with the door closed.

“Do you know if that second grade teacher is here today? The brunette with the cute glasses.”

“Rachel Johnson? She’s not here.”

“Damn. Okay.”

“Why? Do you like her?”

“Don’t tease me about it, but yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll give her your number later. I think it’s cute. She’s really sweet. Sawyer’s probably not gonna stop talking about you until after career day, by the way.”

“That’s his name? He’s a cute kid.”

“I know. Thanks for coming by. I’ll see you at home?” You asked Bob.

“Yeah. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You shared a quick kiss before Bob left with the guys behind him. After eating, you started to email the principal and school board to ask if the end-of-year field trip could be to NAS North Island.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @atarmychick007 @3sriracha

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd imagine #top gun maverick #bob x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun

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nixie-deangel · 3 months ago

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💔💔💔

✨✨✨

Thank You ♥️

💔 icemav break up / icedad

Tom Kazansky has seen a lot of things in his life, in his career but he’s pretty sure listening to Mav and Carole, to the… to the words coming out of their mouths. He thinks this might actually be the most bat shit insane bullshit he’s ever witnessed in his life. And he spent nine months doing some awkward peacocking ritual dancing with Maverick. So he knows what he’s talking about. “You cannot be serious,” he cuts in, voice raising loud enough to cut the other two off. “You. You seriously can’t be… be… What the…” He trails off, dumbfounded as he tries to process what they’d been saying. Pulling Bradley’s papers from the academy? Thinking their boy wouldn’t be hurt by their actions? Thinking they could just brush it all off under the rug and still be happy families?

✨ Retired Bradley, Jake climbing Command

But Jake lets himself be content with it. Mostly because he knows this is what he wants. He wants to move up, to take command beyond leading strike teams. Wants to go up and up and up, to see how far he can make it before he’s either forced to retire or he decides he just doesn’t want to get up and put on the uniform anymore. Maybe, yeah, he was finally at an age or a stage in his life, where he was thinking of wanting something more with a person to call his own. Maybe he’s tired of the string of failed relationships that never went anywhere because of his constant deployments or the extra hours he put into being the best of the best. And maybe yeah, he was finally ready to admit he’d missed his shot. That he was ready to come to terms with having been to chicken shit to reach out and see if that spark he shared with Bradshaw would go anywhere. That he would always carry that regret with him but that he was ready to lay it to rest.

Make Nixie Write!

#anonymous #make nixie write #sereshaw #hangster #ask nixie things #icedad #iceman is about to have his whole world blow up because of mav and carole #and it's gonna be a ROCKY ass road to get back to a sense of peace and happiness because of their actions #bradley retires and jake goes up up up #jake is about to have his whole ass world up ended when he meets bradley again #but he's always about to get everything he's always wanted but held himself back from truly being able to have

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missathlete31 · 1 year ago

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So I’ve been talking to numerous amazing blogs on here about how one of the weakest parts of the Top Gun Maverick storyline is that Bradley stopped talking to Mav for 15 YEARS because he pulled his academy papers. Meanwhile Bradley went on to still be a pilot, and one of the best ones in the entire Navy at that. (Even though in my opinion he was too emotional compromised to even be considered for the mission and his breakdown in the sky when he needed a pep talk could have resulted in Payback and Fanboy both dying- but let’s not get into that 😉)

Anyway, the writers dropped the ball in my mind on that storyline so I’ve come up with three alternative scenarios of angst that could have been why these two men were no longer in each others lives:

1) As Bradley gets older and realizes what actually happened to his father, he gets angry at Mav for still flying. It could be that he finds it insulting to Gooses memory or even that it takes Pete away from Bradley who looks to him as a father figure. Basically a “you don’t love me enough to give up flying” type of situation.

2) To continue with the movie’s blame Carole Bradshaw thinking, what if Mav gets into a bad accident during a mission and almost dies. The Bradshaws are listed as his emergency contact and Carole comes running, spending days waiting to hear if Pete will pull through. Finally when he is on the road to recovery, Carole tells Mav that it isn’t fair he put them through this, all three of them having flashbacks to when Goose was killed. Carole asks Maverick to stop flying but he can’t, it’s who he is. Since he won’t agree, she tells him that he can’t see Bradley anymore. Pete accepts that but nobody tells Bradley the true reason and he thinks Maverick abandoned him and his mom after everything.

3) Bradley originally applies to flight school as a WSO, all in the hopes of getting to fly backseat to Pete Maverick Mitchell. Unfortunately right before he is about to go, Mav informs him that he won’t fly with him refusing to take another Bradshaw into danger like that. However, because Pete can’t communicate well, he makes it seem like he doesn’t trust Bradley to fly with him, as opposed to the other way around. Bradley is hurt, and switched to pilot to spite his Godfather, though it’s too late to reapply and he is forced to wait until the next class, thus setting him back.

So what do we think? Any of these seem more plausible?

#top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #pete mitchell #poor maverick #he doesn’t deserve the things Bradley said to him #bradley was the true antagonist

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andmakeithome · 2 years ago

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happy wip wednesday!! here’s a snippet of the last? second to last? chapter for paper planes au! this will most likely be rewritten as this was mostly word vomit from nano 2022, but here this is anyway! also I’ve decided goose is going to live, so this is going to have to change anyway lol. but I still enjoy this, so voila~

context: mav writes his soulmate (ice) a letter after goose dies; ice then realizes mav is his soulmate and rushes to mav’s base housing to attempt to comfort :’)

"Can I come in?" he asks, voice soft and low. "I just want to talk."

"At…three in the morning?" Mav frowns, glancing behind him as Slider pulls out of the driveway, headlights splashing across the porch. Mav looks Ice over suspiciously as Slider drives away, eyes catching on the crumpled plane in Ice's hand. He stills. His frown deepens as he blinks sluggishly, before his face goes abruptly white. He lifts his gaze, eyes flitting rapidly across Ice's features, eyes wide, fingers tightening on the door frame.

"Can I come in?" Ice asks again, fingers twitching at his side, wishing he had his pen to fiddle with in this awkward in-between. Mav steps aside, silent, and Ice steps into the house.

It's the same as any other base housing, Ice notes, but with little hints of life beyond: Mav's leather jacket strewn across the couch alongside a colorful knitted blanket. Mav's keys resting on the kitchen table. A child's drawings decorate the fridge, strewn up with plane magnets next to a letter.

A letter with Ice's handwriting.

His hand tightens around the paper plane in his hand.

"Is it…is it really…" Mav stutters behind him. Ice turns back to him and Mav shifts, unsure, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He seems to steel himself before he speaks again.

"Why are you here, Ice?"

"I…got your letter," he says, lifting it into view.

"How do you know it's mine?" Mav challenges. But even behind the brave face, Ice can hear the desperation there, and knows this— these…feelings welling inside him aren't just one-sided. He still takes a moment to mull over his words.

"I was too caught up in being at Top Gun to notice sooner, P," he says slowly, and the use of his nickname makes Mav pause. Ice pushes on, confidence building. "But you talk just like you write. Open and confident, bold and…and unabashed in whatever you say. There isn't anyone else like you," he says, flushing. And it's true, Ice can admit. There isn't anyone like Maverick. That's why he fell so hard, and just over their letters, at that.

"Yeah," Mav scoffs wetly, and immediately Ice knows he misstepped somewhere, "there isn't anyone else who would get their best— their RIO killed because they were too caught up in the competition."

#tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #top gun #tg86 #paper planes au #words from lyss #y'all. writing a story with letters throughout is just the most difficult thing in the world #especially when kids are writing the letters #I promise I'll get this done eventually but holy hell this is hard #and now I've thrown in the tori sub plot thing. and writing from ice's perspective is so much harder to write than from mav's pov #so I am on the Struggle Bus #this will still be finished...some day #but for now #enjoy some angst :')

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the-ace-with-spades · 2 years ago

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Fic idea I'll probably never write:

Actor Bradley + still naval aviator Jake AU

Bradley was a theater kid and he was a really good theatre kid - his last high school won a national award for a musical he had the main male role and a play he's the main character and his theater club teacher encouraged him to send audition tape for acting schools. He does, just to get her off his back and he gets further auditions for Juilliard and Tisch, somehow.

Mav, who is trying very hard to change Bradley's plans to join the Navy by encouraging him to apply to as many colleges as he can, tells him to go, just in case he likes it. He gets a spot in Juilliard around the same time he finds out Mav pulled his papers from USNA. It's supposed to be just something to fill the time until he can join NOCS when he gets his degree, he doesn't actually think he'll be an actor full time, he just wants to be as far away from Mav and Ice as he can.

Things happen fast - he has his first Broadway role before he graduates. Within the next few years, he stars in an extremely popular TV show in one of the main male roles, he's got a side role in a box office breaking movie, and then he gets cast as the main character for a series of action movies (ala MI or FaF). He's one of those actors that does dangerous stunts himself and who is called a madman by most of his co-stars and gets a reputation as the crazy but absolutely the funniest and kindest guy ever who stars in way too many productions every year. Fans know him as the guy who engages in charity work, donates and promotes charities for orphans, veterans and minorities and as the guy that goes to random bars and sings musical numbers on untuned pianos. His main revenue are the popular action movies but he stars in more traditionally demanding roles for the challenge (dramas, tragedies, thrillers) and romantic comedies and musicals for funnsies and in indie movies way under his budget for the sake of artistic creation.

(Mav and Ice watched every single production he had been in, a few unavailable Broadway productions aside. Most of them, they have on DVDs.)

He had a lot of luck because his breaking side role was directed by one guy and that guy loved him and pushed him into many of his movies later and then the same happened with another two directors.

His career hits a tough point when his sexuality comes out (unwillingly). There are rumors and a lot of people who were fans of his action movies come around and talk shit about him and he decides to take a break from acting for a bit.

He's a year into the break when his friendly director calls and says he's got a military action movie for him. A movie about naval aviators, about fighter pilots. To be filmed raw, in real planes, in real flight, with real pilots.

Bradley says no straight away. But then his friend is like, I know you've got a pilot licence already and you fly planes for fun, don't you want to share the fun with the rest of the cast, don't you want to fly a fighter jet?

Bradley has always wanted to fly a fighter jet, that's what hurts most about it all, so he agrees.

He hasn't talked to Mav or Ice for over fifteen years when he finds out that the Dagger Squadron the cast got their assigned pilots from is led by Pete Maverick Mitchell and said Pete Maverick Mitchell is going to be performing the most demanding jet stunts needed for the movie.

Bradley's assigned pilot for the rest of the film is a very reluctant Jake Hangman Seresin.

Hangman doesn't watch movies and definitely not action movies. He's a romantic comedy kinda guy because his life is an action movie with ad breaks for paper work and training. So he doesn't know Bradley and like hell he's going to be flying for some hollier than thou actor - he's going to put him in his place and make him puke as many times as possible the minute he sits in his backseat.

It doesn't work. Bradshaw doesn't puke once. He's almost impressed.

He's definitely impressed when Bradshaw stops by the Hard Deck, looking absolutely not like someone who earns millions every year, wearing an old Hawaiian shirt, an old pair of jeans, sunglasses and a worn out Casio watch, and Nikes that have seen better days and sits down at the piano with Jake's squad and bursts out songs after songs, sounding like a freaking angel. He has to leave when people start asking about autographs from left and right.

Maybe Bradshaw is hot, whatever. He still doesn't think he's a big deal, he's probably a mediocre actor at best, some pretty boy with rich parents that could send him to acting school and who probably grew up with money that could buy him a career.

They have problems working together, obviously, and Bradley is like, fuck that, and tells him the address of a private airport and tells him to show up at four.

Jake thinks he's going to make him fly a small private plane for the sake of bonding but instead Bradshaw packs into the passenger seat of a new piston sport plane and starts it off. Doesn't explain anything, just takes Jake up in the sky, ignores his chatter until they're in the air space where he can do some funny bits and maneuvers.

At some point, the plane tells him Bradshaw is pulling 6 Gs.

In the end, Bradshaw tells him, "I don't care what you think of me, I just want you to fly the goddamn plane like I'd."

And okay, maybe Hangman starts finding him a bit hot.

He googles him. And watches some of his movies. And his rom coms and his musicals and he reads and reads and maybe Bradshaw isn't that bad.

They start to talk between film takes and then he takes Bradshaw to relax to a taco stand where he won't be recognised. Then to an ice cream place, and bowling, and surfing, and then again and again, until finally, Bradley lands at Jake's house.

In Jake's bed.

Everything would be absolutely fine but not even a few days later not only tabloids find out all about Bradshaw's gay navy romance - his sexual orientation being a topic Bradley's been avoiding as much as he could in the past year - but also about all the things he's told Jake during their dates, like about Goose and about his (unnamed) Navy gay parents and about how tough it was for him in college and then how tough it was being in the closet while in the industry.

Obviously, Bradley thinks the worst about Jake and how all that info surfaced.

(this gets somehow resolved but I didn't think that far - they get together and Bradley reconciles with Mav and Ice and they have an awkward meet the parents moment when Hangman finds out)

#hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #sorry brain rot moment needed to be articulated or else #fic ideas #op #charlie writes

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 years ago

Note

7 to shut them up.

Rooster and Hangman 👀

Hi! Thanks for this request! I hope you like thus take on Hangster and Kiss # 7 a kiss to shut them up. I hope you love it.

A Kiss To Shut Them Up (Cause Jake Couldn't Shut Up if he Tried)

Bradley has no idea when it happened but he looks blearily up from the warm half inch of beer at the bottom of the bottle to see he's completely alone. Legs akimbo on the sand, he lets the bottle with its skunky dregs dangle from his fingers. Phoenix is dancing not far away, towing Bob around on a makeshift dance floor as Payback and Fanboy dance with the dorkiest dance moves he's ever seen nearby.

Coyote's chatting with Halo, Omaha, Harvard, Yale and Fritz not far away. The only aviator missing is the hero of the night, Hangman. He's been the center of attention for most of the night as everyone pats him on the back for his last-second save during the mission. Bradley and Mav wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for him. Bradley should be riding the adrenaline rush like everyone else. But instead, he just feels lost.

Nobody else can see it. Except maybe Hangman. Bradley can see it sometimes, on his face, the despair, pain and fear hiding behind his eyes. He gets lost in his thoughts for a bit, because the next thing he feels is a cold bottle against the side of his neck.

"Roo!" That crow could only belong to one person. "What're you doing here all alone? Grab a beer! Eat! Drink! Be merry!"

"How can I do that?" Rooster's genuinely bemused, even as Hangman animatedly tells him all of the ways he can be merry. He's struck by the wash of the yellow-pale lights drifting across Hangman's - no Jake's face. He looks ethereal, like an eldritch creature that has come to earth to torment one Bradley Bradshaw. He also looks breathtakingly beautiful.

Jake seems mostly unaware of Bradley's internal musings, even as he gets stuck on the way alcohol is making Jake's lips glisten. But he can't help his fixation. And he can't help how Jake just won't shut up. Who is he kidding? Jake's never been able to shut up. How could he think the man would be any different when he's riding the high of another successful kill?

He chalks what he does next to the excess energy coursing through his system. He curls his fingers through the curls at the base of Jake's neck and pulls the man close. He chatters on, even as Bradley can smell menthol and yeasty beer on his breath. The sharp gasp that pours out of Jake's mouth is quickly muffled in the softest kiss Bradley's ever given.

When he pulls away, Jake's eyes are closed, the paper thin skin of his eyelids twitching as a blush paints his cheeks. Before Jake's eyes open, Bradley's already talking to Natasha, a smile stretched wide over his face.

Want to request a Kiss and a pair for me to write? Guidelines are here.

Want to see other Kisses I've written? Here's the full Masterlist.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #kiss writing game #hangman x rooster #rooster x hangman #jake hangman seresin x bradley rooster bradshaw #jake seresin x bradley bradshaw #hangster #sereshaw

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that-demigirl · 8 months ago

Text

Born To Die - Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Two steps forward one step back. Plus a little arguing

A/N: I can't let them be happy just yet, sorry. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter and again, any and all feedback is appreciated

“What in the hell was that?” Allison yelled after Jake as he walked away. He seemed to ignore her and kept walking so she ran to get in front of him, right up into his face, “Don’t you ignore me, Seresin. What the hell was that?”

“His head is stuck in the past and he’s a danger to this mission,” Jake looked her dead in the eye and was taken aback by the anger displayed by her.

“Like you’re any better?” Allison questioned angrily, “Your head is just as in the past as his. You’re both dangerous to this mission, you’re both going to get somebody killed. You aren’t any better than any of us, Jake.”

“Oh we’re on first name terms again, Allie?” Jake taunted, his attempt to change the subject obvious.

“Don’t change the subject on me,” Allison responded firmly, “How dare you do what you did? That’s his dad, his dad who died in service to our country, that you just threw in his face.”

“Rooster is going to get himself killed flying like he does,” Jake countered, “He’s going to get you- he’s going to get someone else killed.”

“So are you!” Allison yelled, “So are you..”

With that Allison walked away from him, leaving a shocked Jake in wake. Tears of frustration and hurt welled up in her eyes but she kept her head held a=high and continued to walk away from him. Jake didn’t try to chase her down, but all he could think about was what Erin had told him the day before.

“...one of these days she’s gonna stop giving you chances…”

—

Erin walked Bradley into an empty room and shut the door behind them. It was obvious to her that he was still tense and wound up from the incident. She kept quiet and calm. Erin didn’t know what he needed at that moment, but whatever it was she would give it to him.

“Talk to me?” She requested gently after a couple moments of silence.

“About what, huh?” Bradley snapped, “About the fact that Hangman’s an asshole? About the fact the Maverick still doesn’t believe in me? About the fact that you’re still here cleaning up my messes just like when we were kids?”

“Hey, don’t snap at me,” Erin stood up for herself, “Be as angry as you want but I didn’t do anything to you!”

“Except take Maverick’s side when he pulled my papers!” Bradley countered, “I have been on my own for my entire adult life because of him and you were on his side.”

“Are you still on this, Bradley?” Erin asked incredulously, “I was never on his side, you just twisted everything on your warpath against Mav. You’re alone because you did it to yourself. You pushed all of us away, you pushed me away. How do you think I felt when you drove away and didn’t talk to me ever again? How do you think it felt when you abandoned me?”

“Erin, I-” all the anger left Bradley as Erin tore into him with all the hurt and anger and sadness she had kept since he left.

“No, Bradley!” Erin yelled at him, “You want to be alone so bad? Fine, be alone, push me away. It’s your own doing anyways.”

Erin stormed out of the room, slamming the door on her way out. Bradley was left standing in a room, alone. All the progress the two had made in communicating was gone again. Why couldn’t he have let a good thing be a good thing?

—

Allison woke up to a text from their instructor to meet at the beach behind The Hard Deck. It was an interesting training tactic but Allison wasn’t arguing against what was essentially a day off after the day they all had yesterday. So she and Erin got ready for a beach day, happy they had both remembered to pack bathing suits and shorts in their civilian clothes.

They arrived at the beach to see they were the earliest there besides Pete. This meant being enlisted in helping bring drinks from The Hard Deck out to the area that their squadron would all be at.

“Maverick, I need to talk to you about something,” Erin spoke up once the two were alone, Allison having run back to the car to grab her and Erin’s bags.

“I have a feeling I won’t like where this is going, Tink,” Pete said hesitantly, not meeting her eyes.

“Why did you pull Bradley’s papers?” Erin asked, “You always supported both of us whenever we asked about flying and talked about our futures. Uncle Tom would never tell me why you did it…”

“Bradley’s mom didn’t want him to fly,” Pete told her, “She made me promise to do everything I could to keep him from flying.”

“Oh,” Erin said softly, realization hitting her all at once.

“Your mom didn’t want you to fly, her and Carol were very similar in that,” Pete admitted to Erin, “Your mom wanted Ice to talk you out of it but Ice wouldn’t. Ice just couldn’t fathom stopping you from following your dreams, Erin.”

“You tried to stop Bradley,” Erin pointed out, in that moment finally understanding the difference between Pete and her Uncle Tom, the difference between what Bradley had been up against and what she had.

“Yes, I did,” Maverick let out a sigh, “ And I’ll regret the decision for the rest of my life, but I made a promise to Carol. I couldn’t break it… no matter how much it hurt Bradley.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Erin asked, frustrated at just finding all this out now, frustrated that she had been caught in the crosshairs of it all.

“He was so angry, Erin,” Maverick looked away, remembering the night their little family had fallen apart, “I’m sure you saw a piece of it when he went to talk to you, I couldn’t bear him turning that anger on Carol’s memory. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let him hate her.”

“He… he wouldn’t have,” Erin said, though she wasn’t quite sure she was convinced herself. There was a time in her life when she believed that he would never hate Mav and she had been wrong that time. There was no way to know how Bradley would react to knowing his mother was the real reason he was set back.

“We’ll never know,” Pete responded. Any further conversation was cut off by Allison returning with many of their other teammates in tow. With that, Pete explained to them that they would be playing what he called dogfight football. It was a confusing game with both teams having a football and trying to score at the same time as keeping the other team away from the goal.

Allison and Erin had fun. They had gotten split up after a handful of their teammates complained they were just too good together. This led to Pete putting Erin on Jake’s team and Allison on Bradley’s. Erin couldn’t tell what game he was playing at, but she didn’t care to find out either. For once everyone was having fun together. History didn’t matter, rivalries didn’t matter, the upcoming mission didn’t even matter. They felt like an actual team.

Robert had scored a goal and the boys had all lifted him up and everyone was cheering. One time Callie had tackled Allison and Allison swore she saw a look of worry pass over Jake’s features but shook it off with a laugh. Erin went head to head with Bradley to get the football to the goal and managed to shake him off of her pretty quickly. They all ganged up on Hondo when someone from the crowd passed him the ball. As the day wound down and ‘congratulations’ and ‘good games’ got passed around, everyone went back to their own base housing. Smiles on their faces yet worn out from the day of fun.

Tag list: @djs8891

#my oc #ocappreciation #top gun maverick oc #fd: top gun maverick #top gun oc #fd: top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #bradley bradshaw fic #jake seresin fic #oc: erin bell #oc: allison delaney #li: bradley rooster bradshaw #li: jake hangman seresin #bradley bradshaw x oc #jake seresin x oc #rooster x oc #hangman x oc

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witchrecs · 1 year ago

Text

"Brad." You hum, lifting one of your hands as his settle on your waist. You lay it over his cheek and he leans into the contact like a touch-starved puppy, "Are you sure you're okay? You seemed really freaked out. And- and your ribs are still broken, don't they hurt? I think you should get back in bed. We can-"

SO CUTE he really is a puppy

"Shit," He hisses, and Carole buries her face in her hands with a sigh, "Mav, get me a paper towel."

the mav and goose antecedotes are perfect

"Okay, let's stop fucking crying." He breathes, wiping at his eyes overzealously and sniffling hard. You should have known he'd pump up the dramatics, even in serious situations.

HAHA but really this was such a sweet moment and i loved reading it. much love to maverick as a father

"She's just goin' to the store." She teases sweetly, "She's not shippin' off to war. That's your job."

"Yeah," He laughs weakly, " know. I just miss her."

hes so fucking cute I'm going to cry

"I hope she never stops." Bradley croaks, throat raw from sobs, " hope she lies to me forever."

oh my god this broke me! poor baby :(

"But I could lose her. Bradley concludes glumly, "And I can't lose her. So I can't tell her the truth. I- I thought I lost her today." His shoulders tighten as he remembers, "I was trying to stay awake the whole night, just in case she tried slipping out before morning. But she caught me, and she-" He lets out a sob that hurts his throat, "She held me, and she lulled me to sleep, and I've never felt safer. But then I woke up, and she was gone, and the bed was empty, and- and I ran out to see if I could find her, and she was just in the hall, Talking to Mav. But I thought-" He can't finish his sentence, shaking his head instead and starting over, "I can't tell her the truth yet. l'll lose her."

your writing is so incredible i can like FEEL how he does

"Of course I was." He laughs, ringing his arm around your neck to hug you tight to his side while you flip to the first page. He peers at your scrunched-up baby face, vague memories of kissing your nose flashing through his mind from when you were younger, and it was the only thing that could get you to stop crying.

AWW

"Sorry, baby. You hum, voice just as sticky-sweet as your kiss is against his cheek. He leans into it, but you're not expecting it, so you smear a bit more spit over his face than you'd intended to. However, when you laugh incredulously and try to wipe it off, he wriggles away from your shirtsleeve, insisting on keeping the mark.

"No! I fell out of the sky three days ago," Bradley gripes, head held high, "I get to keep all of the gross kisses you give me."

🥹🥹🥹

You tug the photo out of its sleeve, reading Carole's neat inscription on the back: Bradley cried just a few minutes after we took this, because we looked away for a second and when we turned back he was feeding Y/N a snickers bar. We didn't mean to yell, but we freaked out and spooked him, and he wouldn't stop crying unless we told him he could finish the rest of the bar. Winnie the Pooh does NOT like raised voices.

"Crybaby." You tease, and Bradley groans.

"I was a kid! They yelled at me! Of course I cried!"

Poor baby, you just wanted to feed me chocolate," You croon, turning sympathetic at the sight of his exasperated brown eyes, "You've always been good to me, Brad."

this whole little part made me MELT

It doesn't take him any time at all to respond this time around, because the answer is easy and honest: "That's not true. You were my dream, angel. You still are."

GOD💞💞

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 3) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K (again...? somehow?) / navigation / inbox

A/N: ...surpriiiise! this is not the end 😭 i'm sorry to deviate from my original plan, but life got in the way a lot, so now there will be four parts to this series, this is the second-to-last. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, it just didn't work out the way I wanted it to. The real final part to this series will be posted one week from today. I hope you all understand, and I hope you enjoy this part and all of the drama that comes with it!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Your eyes blink open far too early. It’s due to your side, there’s a draft that’s worked its way over your skin and raised tiny goosebumps over your thigh. You’ve woken up differently than how you’d fallen asleep ,and you suspect that you’d wormed your way into Bradley’s chest again in your slumber. You can’t blame yourself, it’s a comfortable place to be.

You push against his abdomen to wriggle your way out of his embrace and reclaim the blanket that’s fallen, but his hands tug you closer in an instant. Too fast, you decide, as you peer through the darkness of your bedroom, eyes adjusting groggily to the light.

“Brad?” You whisper, “Are you awake?”

He takes a moment to answer, and you think he might be pretending to be asleep. But eventually you feel him nod against his pillow, “Yeah.”

“Oh, honey,” You strain to reach the bedside lamp from your spot in his grip, especially considering any distance you create between the two of you, he closes. Once you finally click the light on you see his bloodshot eyes, red and rosy from their lack of sleep.

“What’s the matter?” You croon, your voice still thick with sleep as you cup his cheek in your palm, “Why are you awake, did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” He rasps, something desperately sad in his voice, “I never slept.”

“What-” You whirl your glance around to the bedside clock that reads 2:30, “Brad, you’ve been awake the whole time?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” He defends, his fingers curling around your waist, “I- I don’t know how anymore.”

“Baby,” You feel a thick wave of nausea rising in your belly at his state of distress, feeling nothing but anguish for the broken boy; your broken boy, “It’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe now, you’re home. You don’t- uh, do you remember anything new?”

“No,” He shakes his head, eyes downcast as he swallows tightly in his throat, “No, but my brain is coming up with a thousand different ways it could have gone, and I can’t stop.”

You hope his brain hasn’t conjured the correct possibility. That he’d gone down truly alone.

“Poor baby,” You whimper, somehow more choked up than he is, “Come here.”

As he settles in your embrace, his head against your chest now, you reconsider: maybe you were made for holding him, and he was made to be held by you. Or maybe your roles are the same, each made to hold and be held by each other. Whatever the universe designed for you, it’s working, as his face presses into your collarbones like a puzzle piece snapping into place. He fits perfectly, and you feel the prickle of his mustache as he sniffles, once.

“You’re okay,” You hum, hoping that the vibrations of your voice through your throat sing him to sleep. Your nails scrape through his hair, long-since dried from his shower, though still smelling strongly of shampoo. You can feel him breathing, shakily so, against your skin, and the breeze fans through the neckline of your top, warm and soft in its rhythm.

In, out. He’s alive. In, out. He’s here. In, out. He loves you. In, out. He wants you to stay.

In, out. He doesn’t know. In, out. He could remember at any second. In, out. He could hate you.

In, out. He won’t hate you. In, out. He’ll want to work things out. In, out. He’ll want you to stay. In, out. He loves you.

“Baby,” You croak, your throat thick with tears that are part anxiety, and part anguish for your poor boy, “I love you.”

His hands tighten around your waist after a split second of silence, then he murmurs against your collarbone, “I love you, too.”

“Sleep,” You insist, resuming your soft strokes through his hair, “Sleep, Brad. You’re safe, you’re home.”

“You’re home, too.” He adds, and you realize it’s an affirmation on its own. That you're together; that he didn't die alone in a cockpit.

You nod, swallowing a sob, “Yeah, baby, I’m home too. And I’m not leaving, I’m gonna park my ass right here until you get eight hours of sleep, at least. Got it?”

He laughs weakly into your skin, “Got it, babe.”

“Good,” You whisper, keeping up a steady rhythm through his hair, “Good, honey, now sleep.”

You can’t seem to close your eyes until Bradley closes his own. You feel the flutter of his lashes against your skin, Then they cease their motions and the upper strands settle over the lower ones, brushing your chest in tandem. The longer you go without feeling them twitch, the better, and you don’t stop combing through his hair until his breathing has been soft and even for ten minutes minimum. Then exhaustion creeps back over you, and the knowledge that Bradley’s finally sleeping eases you into another few hours of your own slumber.

What wakes you up for the second time isn’t the series of knocks on the front door, but, yet again, a phone call. It's seemingly a pattern of late. This time your phone rings in the kitchen though, where you’d left it last night while eating. You’re surprised it hasn’t died, but you hear the ringing fade out while you lay in Bradley’s embrace. Your brain struggles to process the past 48 hours, but you know enough about the situation to know that it’s probably Carole knocking at the door, as well as calling you when you don’t answer.

Bradley’s still sleeping, thank god, serene when his eyes aren’t open to showcase the deep anxiety they hold. You can’t imagine how he feels, clueless and terrified, like a little kid. You’re glad he’s getting at least a few restful hours, even if you’re sure his dad and yours’ voices will boom far too loud through the house the second they step through the door.

Rushing to answer the door is hard to do silently, but when your face pops into the window panes set in the wood, you hold a finger over your lips.

Shush, you warn, then with a jerk of your thumb backwards towards the bedroom, he’s sleeping.

Carole, the one who needs your warning the least, nods jovially, a pretty smile already set on her face for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine, and you’re lucky to have her at this moment especially. Nick and your dad salute you, and you’ve never let out a more exasperated sigh than the one you greet them with.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty,” Nick grins, barging in like he owns the place (which he did, for a while), “Brad still conked out?”

“Yeah,” You nod, opening the door wider to let everyone through. Carole’s carrying an insulated bag, your dad has a few totes of groceries, and Nick's got a heavy cooler strapped over his shoulder like a purse.

“My god,” You marvel, “Did you raid a Trader Joe’s?”

“You said there was nothin’ in the fridge,” Carole grins, “We brought stuff for breakfast, and whatever else you need, we can run out for later.”

“Thanks,” You gush, taking the bag from her despite her protests, “Is there milk in here?”

“And eggs,” Your dad nods, holding up his own bags, “And bread, and fruit, and-”

“And I wanna put this thing down,” Nick groans, heading for the kitchen with the cooler, “You talk too much, Mav.”

“Me- I talk too much?” His voice raises a hair as he heads for the kitchen in tow, and you and Carole shoot him the necessary disapproving looks, “This, from the guy who missed his flight to Hawaii because he was too busy telling the gate attendant that his son won student of the week in preschool.”

The two conveniently bicker, leaving you and Carole alone in the entryway. She sends you a questioning glance, no words needed.

“Not yet,” You mutter, and her eyes dim in disappointment, “I just- I wanted one night. One night to pretend like nothing happened at all, but I promised him we’d do it today. I told him,” You sigh shakily, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “I told him I wasn’t trying to hide from him, or anything like that, but- but that I just wanted a normal night. He said it was fine, he agreed. I wouldn’t have just gone to sleep if he pushed.”

“Honey!” She scolds, like there’s not a thought in your head, “Since when has he ever pushed you? Of course he said it was fine, you asked him for it! He'd let you run him over with a train if you asked to. You have got to stop this,” She narrows her eyes at you, the expression accompanied by various only-slightly-muffled banging sounds from the kitchen “I know it’s scary. I know it could go a lotta different ways. But you owe this to him now. Now that he knows, now that he’s askin’ questions, you’ve gotta answer ‘em. You’re the only one that can, you’re the only one that knows!”

Neither of you have noticed your dad standing in the kitchen doorway. But he’s not stealthy, and his broad frame catches your eye. You turn, panicked, but his face reads confusion.

“You’re the only one that knows what?” He queries, one thick brow raised. Carole waits for you to answer, and you build the courage in your chest.

“Nothing, dad. I’ll- I’ll talk to you about it later. In private.”

He remains concerned, his light eyes darkened in worry, but he trusts you, and Carole doesn’t fight back against your solution. He nods once, then clears his throat, “Nick can’t figure out how to work your stove. He wants to make pancakes.”

“Ooh, that man,” Carole huffs, more exasperated than upset, as she storms into the kitchen, “Honey, it’s the dial in the back!”

Technically, you’re in private now. Your dad seems to realize the same, shifting towards you, but before he can ask, there’s a thud from the bedroom.

Fear stabs your heart like a sword, blade sharp and venomous as you imagine an injured Bradley unable to get himself off of the floor. But you aren’t able to take two steps towards the bedroom before Bradley comes stumbling down the hall, nearly tripping over the too-long pajama pants you’re still matching in.

When he sees you and your dad, he freezes for a moment, posture tight. You hope he’s not embarrassed to be caught in his holiday pajamas, but you’re more concerned about why he was sprinting in the first place.

“Baby,” You call worriedly, making your way over to him across the carpet of the hallway, “Baby, what’s wrong? DId you fall? I heard a thud.”

“No, I-” He shakes his head, blinking hard for a moment, “I heard someone in the house. I don’t- I thought someone had broken in. Sweetheart, I- I didn't even realize you weren't in bed," He chuckles sheepishly, "I thought I was protecting you.”

You squeeze his arm with a fond smile, though you're still worried about him, adoration swelling in your chest alongside concern, "Poor baby."

“Sorry, Brad,” Your dad laughs softly, heading back towards the doorway to rejoin the others once he realizes you won’t be sharing just yet, “Your dad can’t find his way around a kitchen.”

“Should have known,” Bradley huffs, curling an arm around your waist, “If my mom ever left him he’d never eat again.”

You welcome the privacy that this gives you and Bradley, and your hands find the broad expanse of his chest as you stare worriedly up at him.

“Brad,” You hum, lifting one of your hands as his settle on your waist. You lay it over his cheek and he leans into the contact like a touch-starved puppy, “Are you sure you’re okay? You seemed really freaked out. And- and your ribs are still broken, don’t they hurt? I think you should get back in bed. We can-”

“Hey,” Bradley murmurs, mustache tickling your palm as he lays a kiss to the heel of your hand, “It’s alright. You’re spiraling, babe. I’m okay.”

You like that about him, the way he kisses you anywhere. It doesn’t seem to matter if he catches your lips, your hand, your elbow; it’s all there for him to love on.

“I am not spiraling,” You defend weakly, “I just want to make sure you’re alright. Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” He shakes his head, and when you move to pull your hand away from his face, one of his own flies to catch it. His hand fits just as well against the back of yours as it does the front, and you let him cradle your palm to his cheek.

“I’m okay,” He repeats, a promise that reassures the deep ache of worry in your chest, “Thanks for helping me sleep last night, honey. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You swallow the weight of his words, feeling them settle like boulders in your stomach. They’ve tangled strings around your heart, tugging and yanking at the organ until it sinks low in your body. Today’s the last day you can pretend you’d never walked away.

“You’ll have me forever,” You hum, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips that you hope distracts from the tears in your eyes. You sigh shakily against his mouth, relishing the feeling of his lips against your own. It’s comforting, and he keeps it chaste but meaningful, humming sweetly into you. When you break away only your lips part, foreheads and noses still flush like snapped-in puzzle pieces.

There’s some inexplicable force sticking you together, blood magnetized to each other’s from how long your hearts have beat as one. You let your eyes slip shut in his hold, hoping with everything in you that today isn’t the last time you’ll get to hold him like this. There’s a countdown ticking away in your brain, one that makes your blood run cold and your stomach churn, but the smell of pancake batter tears you away from watching the numbers run out.

“Pancakes,” You whisper softly against his lips, “You wanna eat?”

“Yeah,” He nods, but he makes no move towards the kitchen. He’s standing still, like you’re a cat that’s decided to snooze on his lap and he’s afraid of spooking you. His hands are still holding your waist, dragging you into him and supporting your weight against his own. It’s comfortable there, serene as you breathe in tandem, drinking each other in after a rough night. You’re glad Bradley’s gotten even a little bit of sleep, and with a nap later, you’re sure he’ll be well-rested enough to talk, even though you wish you didn’t have to. This is a fantasy you want to get lost in, one that you wish wasn’t starting to crack and splinter under his discerning gaze. It’s endearing that he knows you well enough to know that you’re lying to him, but not now that you want them to be the truth.

“You still haven’t remembered anything?” You ask, grateful to be cupping his cheek where his hand holds your own.

“Nope,” He shakes his head as much as he can with it pressed to your own, kissing at your top lip. It doesn’t require reciprocation, it’s barely-there and fleeting, “Doctor said it could be weeks.”

“He also said it could be minutes,” You mumble, voice hazy with worry, “Let’s go eat, Brad. Our parents brought along a buffet.”

It’s only now that either of you finally move, hands sliding across each others’ skin to join together. You walk as your fingers intertwine, and he holds back to let you step into the kitchen first.

“There he is!” Nick cheers at his son’s dramatic entrance, “Hey, Brad, watch this!”

He yanks the pan off of the stove, standing with his shoulders squared and his knees bent, like he’s preparing to bat at a softball. He jerks the pan up and out, dislodging the pancake from its resting place and sending it into the air when he pulls the pan back down again. It flips gracefully, but Nick catches it less so, half of the gooey side of the pancake landing on the rim of the pan and splattering onto his hand.

“Shit,” He hisses, and Carole buries her face in her hands with a sigh, “Mav, get me a paper towel.”

“Nice one, dad,” Bradley drawls, letting you stifle your laugh into his shoulder, “You could go pro with that.”

“If you make fun of me I’ll spit in the batter,” Nick grumbles as your dad swipes away the batter dripping inches away from his watch, “Thanks, Mav.”

The paper towel and pancake mishap are forgotten as you chat in the kitchen, standing around like a proper family. You’ve always been one, and you hope you always will be. You find an easy home tucked into Bradley’s side, feeling his thumb stroke at your waist and his lips press to your hair every few minutes. The pancakes go surprisingly fast, and Carole refuses to let anyone help her slice fruit, which is probably a good idea, at least for your dad, who’s fond of showing off knife tricks he hasn’t yet mastered.

Bradley’s perfectly capable of dressing his own pancakes up, but you feel the need to. Maybe it’s girlfriend duty, maybe it’s the fact that his ribs are still achy, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying to overcompensate, but whatever it is has your hand delving into the bowl of freshly washed blueberries, grabbing a handful and sprinkling them over Bradley’s buttered stack of pancakes. Then you take a banana, leaving Carole three more to slice up into the salad.

You slice the fruit towards your thumb, the blade pressing gently to your skin as it cuts through the banana. It doesn’t hurt, but Bradley reaches for your hands, pulling the knife away and holding the affected thumb.

“Don’t do it like that,” He explains, raising your thumb to his lips. He kisses it once, his lips pressing to the smooth pad of your finger, mustache tickling your skin, “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

“I was careful,” You insist, but the last thing you want to do is pull away from Bradley, so you let him curl his fingers around your own, interlocking them as he holds your hand.

“I’ll cut it,” He squeezes your hand, leaning in to peck softly at your lips, “You’ve done a ton for me these past few days, babe. I can cut my own banana.”

You worry you’re coming off as smothering, that you’ve suffocated him with care. But the thought of never being able to do it again, and being deprived of the option to for weeks, has made you more of a helicopter girlfriend than anything.

You let him cut his own banana, just in case he’s feeling resentment towards you for being so overbearing. But you don’t think he’s angry, not as he slices the banana down onto the cutting board and takes it between his thumb and forefinger. He holds it out for you, right up to your lips like you shouldn’t even be asked the effort of leaning forwards to eat it. You take it carefully from his hand, and you lament the fact that you’ll get banana mush on his thumb if you try kissing it.

The fruit is flavorful on your tongue, but it’s a small slice, and you finish it quickly. You let the aftertaste linger in your mouth as you head for Bradley at the counter, pushing your face into his back and slinging your arms around his waist. You’re careful to keep pressure off of his aching ribs, and he leans into your touch instead of flinching away.

You settle your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt, head turned so that you’re facing your houseguests. They’re all smiling at you, Carole most of all, and you offer them a sleepy one back.

“So, Brad,” Nick muses, plating the final pancake with a flourish that, thankfully, doesn’t send the stack toppling to the ground, “What are you gonna do today?”

“Nap,” Bradley blurts, and he uses the time that your family chuckles in unison to slip you another banana slice. It’s an awkward angle that his arm has to achieve, but you take it from him happily, jaw working to munch on the fruit while you nestle against his back once more.

“I dunno,” He hums, nearly through chopping the banana, “Maybe a movie or something. Hey, we could finish season 5 of The Office.”

“Mm,” You nod with a mouthful of banana against his back, “Yeah.”

You’ve been watching the series together, having finished Friends already. It’s a good show to watch before bed, because it gives you something to snuggle up together and giggle at. You’ve only got a few episodes left in the season, so you should be able to finish it in no time with Bradley’s extensive bedrest.

“Alright, my loves,” Carole croons, dropping the last two pieces of watermelon she’d been cutting into the bowl, “That’s the fruit! Are we ready to eat?”

A round of excitement circles the kitchen, and you cling to Bradley for as long as you can. He lets you, doesn’t try to shake you off as he drizzles syrup over his pancakes.

“You wanna split ‘em?” He offers, and you nod. He can’t see you, but he feels the movement against his back, and even if he wasn’t able to, he knows you well enough to know you’ll want bites of the food. You reluctantly let go of his waist when he picks the plate up, and you trail behind him to the dining room. He’s finally able to see the decorations you’d hung, and he stops to admire them in the doorway.

“Welcome home,” You coo, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Carole stands proud beneath the banner, “Do you like it, baby?”

“Guys-,” Bradley chuckles sheepishly, setting the pancakes down at his place just beside yours, “I love it. Thank you, even though I was only gone for two days.”

“It was the longest two days of my life,” You gripe, but you suppose your days have been unpleasantly long for weeks now, “That’s what I was referring to, by the way, when I said your mom was scarily agile. I came out from the bedroom to find her standing on both the couch and the table.”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, bewildered. Nick looks a little concerned, Carole bashful, and your dad impressed.

Eating around the table together reminds you of when you were younger, dinners and breakfasts and lunches alike being shared around the table. It didn’t matter who’s, you could turn a Denny’s booth into your home with a few plates of food and the laughter that’s never in short supply within your family.

Bradley cuts his pancakes himself, probably happy to have something to do with his hands. He’s eager to return the favor of feeding you, grabbing chunks of pancake on the end of his fork and guiding them into your mouth. You’re reminded of a picture you’d passed up in the photo album yesterday, of Bradley spoon-feeding you as a baby. His utensil-airplane impression was probably scarily accurate thanks to his dad; you wish you could remember it. Maybe, if you don't break up tonight, you'll see him feed your own kid that way.

You’re happy to sit and be fed, even letting him wipe syrup off of your chin like you’d done for him. You’re sure the only reason he doesn’t kiss it off of you is because your dad is there, and his, too. They have a tendency to make fun of you, even if it’s all good-natured.

“D’you need more groceries, baby?” Carole points her fork in your direction, pointedly swallowing her mouthful of watermelon before speaking.

Her husband doesn’t offer you the same courtesy, speaking through a messy mouthful of eggs, “Pro’lly not. We damn near bought out the store.”

Before Carole can reprimand him for his less-than-perfect etiquette, you nod, “We need produce. We might be okay on fruit if there’s any of this left,” You gesture to the bowl of fruit salad, “But we need vegetables. And eggs, we probably used them all. I’ll make a list later, once I clean up.”

“Once we clean up,” Bradley corrects you, “I’ve been in bed for two days straight, I need to do something.”

“You’re gonna need to be in bed for a lot longer than two days,” You narrow your eyes at him, “You need rest, baby,”

“I’m rested! And I’m gonna rest later when we watch our show,” He pleads, “Just let me help?”

“Why doesn’t he help me with the dishes?” Your dad intervenes, scraping his last bite of pancake through a sticky puddle of syrup on his plate. It’s boysenberry, and a drop nearly falls to your tablecloth as he brings it to his mouth.

“You wash, I’ll dry and put away. That way you can keep your arms down. Deal?”

“Fine by me,” Bradley nods, and you shoot your dad a thankful glance.

“I’ll sort through the fridge then,” You decide, “Nick, Carole, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“We’re gonna keep bummin’ ‘round here ‘til you stop feeding us,” Nick decides, “Whaddya say honey, ‘think we can move into the guest room?”

“Oh I’m sure they’d love that,” Carole plays along, a wry drawl in her voice, “They’d have to hear your snoring all night.”

“He snores, too,” You jerk an accusatory thumb at Bradley who doesn’t even try to deny the allegation, “Like father, like son. It must come with the mustache.”

“Speaking of my mustache,” Bradley’s hand flies to his lip, feeling cautiously at the patch of hair atop it, “Did they- shave part of my mustache?”

A guilty look is shared around the table. You speak up in a meek voice, “Yeah, baby. To get the breathing tube in there.”

He groans, “Next time, just let me die.”

“Don’t say that,” You hiss, stomping on his foot beneath the table. The yelp that he lets out is almost comical, but Carole’s face is still scrunched in a disapproving frown at her son.

“I’m sorry!” Bradley cries, “I’m sorry, jesus, are you wearing steel-toed boots under there?”

“No, but if you keep making jokes like that, I’ll put some on and kick you in the balls.” You threaten, and Bradley thinks it might be a promise.

“It’s not funny,” Carole insists, voice weaker than yours, “Brad, you- you almost did die.”

“Mom-” He sighs weakly, posture deflating, “I’m sorry. Really, it was a bad joke. I won’t do it again. Are you okay?”

She takes a minute to think, blinking at her plate instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. Then she stands, nodding hastily, “I’m alright. I just need a minute.”

Bradley tries to follow after her but Nick stands at the same moment, waving him back down into his seat.

“She’s okay,” He promises, smiling sadly at his son, “But she really was scared. I’ll handle it, you finish eating.”

Bradley slumps back into his seat, the sinking feeling in his gut at making his mom cry probably similar to the one in yours from lying to him. You’ve become scarily fond of this temporary life of yours, where you’re still dating Bradley, and you’ve got a family again. Lying comes easy now, and if you don’t think about it, you’ll forget you’re even doing it. You’re the actor most dedicated to their craft, believing even your own performance because it means you get Bradley back.

Lying is much easier when you love doing it.

You hear a rogue sniffle from Carole down the hall, and you clatter your fork against your plate to cover it up. It probably doesn’t work, as Bradley stares forlornly at his own almost-empty plate, and you don’t think he has the appetite to finish it.

“Are you done?” You nudge his knee, and he glances up dazedly at you.

“Yeah,” His throat is dry and his voice is weary, “You want the rest?”

“I’m okay,” You shake your head, turning to your dad, “Dad? You all finished?”

“Yeah,” He smiles weakly, trying to break the awkward silence, “Ready to clean up the kitchen, Brad?”

“Alright,” He hums, standing from his chair. His movements are slow and sluggish, and you don’t think he’ll be at his best until his mom comes out with dry cheeks and a smile. In the meantime, you dig in the cupboards for a tupperware to put the fruit salad in.

Cleaning is tense, even if you and your dad try acting like nothing is wrong. Bradley’s not talkative anymore, and you resort to going about your business silently, packing the fridge with what little leftovers there are and making sure Bradley isn’t straining himself at the sink.

When Nick and Carole emerge from the bathroom, peering tentatively into the kitchen, Bradley nearly drops the last plate he’s washing into the sink. He hastily dries his hands, moving in for a hug from his mother while she smiles sheepishly at him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, and Nick smiles on. You try not to stare, not to ruin their moment, but you can’t help it; you and your dad share a happy grin.

“I know, baby,” She promises, combing a hand through the back of his hair, “I know, I just- I just get worried about you, s’all. ‘Specially when you land yourself in the hospital.”

“No more jokes,” Bradley promises, and she gratefully parrots him, adding 'and no more crashes,'.

“Alright,” You hum, when it’s appropriate to speak, “I’m gonna run to the store. Brad, you should get back in bed, but- uh, again, you’re all welcome to stay for longer, if you’d like.”

“I’ll go with you,” Your dad steps in, almost too close to be casual. You realize why, and that sinking feeling you’d been trying to ignore the entire morning comes back; He wants to know your secret.

“Okay,” You nod, trying to keep your composure even if your hands suddenly feel sweaty, “We won’t be gone long. Babe, get some rest, I mean it.”

You narrow your eyes at Bradley, then turn to Nick and Carole, “If you stick around, will you be on babysitting duty? Don’t let him wander around too much.”

“Will do,” Nick nods once, firmly, “Come on, Lieutenant, you heard your orders.”

“Alright, alright,” He gripes, rolling his eyes exasperatedly as Nick pats his back. He moves towards you, stepping across the kitchen tile to kiss you goodbye.

“Get me some cheetos,” He pleads, face only inches away from your own. He leans in and his mouth moves against yours as he speaks, “The jalapeno ones?”

“Okay,” You giggle, dragging out the last syllable. You use his lips to chase away your nerves, letting his sweet touch drown out the thoughts in your head. You kiss him briefly once, then twice, and send him off to bed with a quick nudge of your nose against his own.

“Bye,” Your dad flashes one hand in a quick wave as you call, ‘Be back soon!’.”

He doesn’t make his move the second the door shuts, he waits until you get going down the road in Bradley’s Bronco before opening his mouth.

“So,” He tries coming off as casual but you wouldn’t buy it in a million years, “What was Carole talking about earlier?”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” You confess, suddenly very invested in checking your blind spot even though it’s clear, “I wanted to keep it private. I didn’t even want her to know.”

“Well, she knows everything,” Your dad shrugs, discerning eyes glancing at your own guarded ones through the mirror, “And I’m usually out of the loop. Can we change that just this once?”

“Dad-” You scoff at his persistence, running a hand over your face and slapping it back onto the wheel, “Something happened between Bradley and I before the crash.”

“Something happened,” Your dad muses, brain trekking heartbreakingly positive routes, “You�� paid off the cars? You bought a pet? You- oh god, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“No!” You gush, but it’s not for a lack of sex, merely your use of contraceptives, “I- um, he asked me to marry him.”

You feel cruel when you see his face light up. It’s like the inflation of a balloon, features rising in joy until his eyes shine like the sun, “Oh, honey, that’s amazing. Congratulations! Have you set a date, or- or a venue, or-”

“I said no.”

The balloon deflates slightly. A tiny puff of air escapes it, like you’ve released your fingers around its spout for only a second. His eyes dull slightly, and his smile is cautiously still stretching his cheeks.

“What?”

“I said no, dad.” You repeat, voice aching in your throat, “I said no, and I left him.”

“You left him?” Your dad’s voice mirrors your own, bordering on shaky as his brain reprograms its image of you two, “You- you said no and you left him?”

“Yeah,” You whimper, the word coming out far weaker than you wish it did. Your mouth turns down so that you can bite the inside of your bottom lip, desperately withholding a sob.

“Why?”

That’s the million dollar question. The one you know the answer to, but don’t want to admit to anyone. You left because you were scared of getting hurt, and now you’re lying to everyone because you’re scared they’ll see you as a coward. You’re scared they’ll think you’re scared.

You’re scared they’ll know you’re scared.

You want to tell your dad that you don’t know. You want to tell him that it had been a fit of insanity, that you’d been cured with a walk around the block and that you’d kissed and made up just that night. But you swallow your nerves, squaring your shoulders as you make a right turn, “I was scared.”

You’d admitted it to Carole in the hospital, but she’d seen right through you, she’d forced your confession. Doing it now, by choice, makes you feel like you’re taking a step forward. It’s like you’re actually cracking down on the promise you’d made to yourself days ago, that you’d stop running just to self-destruct. You’re not facing your dad in the seat but it feels like you’re facing off with some sort of formless, panic-driven entity that encapsulates him, and slowly you’re chipping away at it.

“I was scared because marriage seems so much more than dating does. We’ve been dating- forever. The only thing marriage would have changed was that we’d have a paper telling us we loved each other. I mean,” You laugh, but the sound is reminiscent of a sob, “-we always joked about being too lazy to get married. That we didn’t do it for 20 years because we already practically were, and we didn’t wanna waste gas money for some preacher to tell us we were. But- but anyways, after Javy’s crash, I was remembering Nick’s, and I started worrying about Bradley. I was sad and scared for Nick and Javy, I couldn’t imagine being in that situation with Bradley. So when he asked me to marry him, it felt like if I said yes I’d be signing onto that. I- I know that’s dumb, and that’s not what saying yes meant. But I had this awful panic running through my head; that he could crash at any point in time, and if I didn’t get out soon, I’d be heartbroken and terrified like everyone else was, and I didn’t wanna go through that again. So I- I said no, and I told him I couldn’t love him anymore, and I left, because I thought that I’d be okay if I just didn’t marry him. Like I could have- moved on in the two days I wasn’t living with him, or something. Like if I just wasn’t formally dating him, or married to him, I wouldn’t be hurt if he was.”

“And-” You break away, voice trembling and nose running, “It didn’t even work. I walked out, and he still crashed, and I still got hurt. I didn’t solve anything, I- I made it worse. I made it so much worse, dad.”

You’ve turned into the grocery store parking lot, and a terrible, stiff, heavy silence hangs over the car while you park it. You wait until you shut it off, engine puttering out and body no longer humming, to look at him.

He’s staring at his lap, crystal-clear tears sliding down his cheeks. He isn’t looking at you, but you’re sure he knows you’re looking at him, and it turns your stomach in a nauseous whirl.

You stare for five seconds before he speaks. Five agonizing, soul-crushing, terrifying seconds where you think you might be on the verge of being disowned.

“I was never good at commitment,” His small voice breaks the silence, and the breath that he drags in to push the words out is shaky, “And- neither was your mom. Obviously. So I shouldn’t be surprised that it runs in the family. But- but Y/N, you left? You have been in love with Bradley since before you could say the word, I mean he- he was the only one that could get you to stop crying before your naps as a kid! You wouldn’t sleep unless he was in the room, I’m surprised Nick and Carole didn’t move him in with us.”

“I know,” You croak, but he’s not finished.

“I- I understand your thought process.” He assures you, “It’s flawed, but I understand how your brain conjured it up. You were trying to save yourself, and I understand that instinct. I just can’t believe it happened between you two. I mean, you were fated, I thought you two would set the world record for longest relationship. You were gonna go gray together, you were gonna have a thousand kids, and-”

“Dad!’ You cry, a sob shaking your chest, “I know. I get it. You’re making this worse.”

“How could I possibly make this worse?” He laughs incredulously, but there’s not a shred of humor in his voice, “Y/N, I-” He lowers his voice, cutting some of the exasperation out of his tone, “I don’t even understand, why is he- oh.. my god.”

“He doesn’t know,” Your dad concludes, head knocked back against the headrest, “He doesn’t know you left him because he has amnesia.”

“Yeah,” You confirm, voice meek and shameful, “I- I was gonna leave after I knew he was okay. But then- then Carole figured us out, and she said it would be better if I pretended for now, because he was probably scared and he needed my comfort in the moment. She said to just let him remember on his own time and then address it, to- to not overwhelm him with a plane crash and a breakup.”

“But I- I thought he’d have his memory back by now,” You sniffle, wiping your nose with your hand, caring little about the mess, “The doctor said minutes, I didn’t think it’d go on for days. And now I’m starting to get worried, will- will he ever remember? Am I supposed to lie to him for the rest of my life? Or am I supposed to leave again, to confess and break his heart a second time? I don’t know what to do, dad!” You feel like a little girl, sobbing in her father’s lap, “Please, I- I don’t know what to do.”

You’re immensely relieved when he reaches over to take your hand. You’ve spent the last two weeks disgusted with yourself, and for your dad to react the way he did, you were afraid he felt the same. But he squeezes your hand tight, and you’d complain about how it squished your fingers together if it were any other situation.

“Honey,” His voice trembles, and you recall the only times you’ve ever seen him cry. After Goose’s accident, of course, when you’d broken your arm at the park when you were twelve, when the dog he’d gotten for you as a birthday present passed on. He’s a man of very little tears, so seeing them now moves you.

“I love you,” He promises, and you’re glad that hasn’t changed, “And I’m always going to, even if you do the wrong thing. And this was wrong, that- that was the wrong thing. But I think you can make it right again, and if you need my help doing that, it’s yours.”

“Thanks, dad,” You gush through a faceful of tears, a wet mess sliding down your chin and soaking through the neckline of your shirt, “I- I want to make it right. Carole thinks he’ll take me back if I apologize. And I want to, I want to apologize.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s brows raise and he sniffles, wiping a tear from his face, “Yeah, that’s a good start. I think he’d forgive you for just about anything, I- I don’t know that you could ever drive him away.”

“That’s what Carole said," You recall, and you feel guilty for the hope it gives you.

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him.” Your dad reminds you, and you nod.

“I’m gonna grovel.” You decide, “Like, hardcore, begging on my knees, ‘I’ll-do-anything-for-you-to-forgive-me’ groveling.”

“I think that’s your best bet,” Your dad lets out a huff of laughter, smearing away another tear, “I think you can do it. But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

“I know,” You lament, “But- but I don’t care. I’ll do it even if it's hard. He’s worth fighting for.”

“That’s my girl,” Your dad grins, squeezing your hand. It feels like you’re back on the peewee soccer field at age four after scoring a goal. You squeeze back, and have a sudden hankering for orange slices.

“Okay, let’s stop fucking crying,” He breathes, wiping at his eyes overzealously and sniffling hard. You should have known he’d pump up the dramatics, even in serious situations.

“Alright,” You laugh wetly, the sound infused with hope you wouldn’t feel if it weren’t for your dad, “Do you think they’ll be able to tell we were crying?”

You share a quick once-over with your dad, clocking his red eyes, puffy towards the bottom, and equally rosy nose. You’re sure your face is just as swollen, and he cracks a grin.

“Nah,” He shakes his head, “Definitely not.”

The next thing you share is a laugh, cranking the car’s AC on high so that your tears dry up quicker. Maybe they’ll even freeze right on your cheeks, so that you can save them and defrost the memory later to feel your dad’s love again.

“You heard the lady,” Nick calls to Bradley when he reaches for the dish he’d abandoned in the sink, “Head to bed, Brad. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“It’s one plate!” Bradley gripes, but Carole’s dangerous glances towards him works just as effectively as it had when he was younger, and he grumbles, “Fine.”

“Sweet dreams,” Nick jeers after him as he shuffles back to your shared bedroom, but Carole nudges him towards the sink with a scoff.

“Stop teasin’ him, and get to work, busboy. I expect the counters wiped, too!”

“Call me goddamn Cinderella,” Goose grumbles, but he’d wipe down the floor before every step she took if she asked him to. He gets to work with no protest.

Carole treads carefully down the hallway, hoping her son is dressed sufficiently for her presence in the room. She finds him swapping out his pillow for yours, and she lingers in the doorway with a careful smile.

“Hey, babycakes. Gonna nap?”

“Maybe,” Bradley nods, hair already mussed from the pillow, “Thanks for staying, mom.”

“Of course, baby,” Her heart aches for her son, being on the brink of death and not even remembering it. Being so close to losing his life and not knowing how it felt. Just knowing that it happened; knowing that it didn’t happen.

“You told me when you were twelve that you were too old for me to tuck you in,” She pushes off of where she’s leaning against the doorway, coming around the bed to Bradley’s side to fuss with the blankets, “But you’re probably still weak from the crash, and you couldn’t push me away if you tried.”

He lets out a laugh, one that’s rife with exhaustion but genuine all the same, as she digs her hands beneath his sides, tucking the comforter beneath him. She braces her hands on the mattress to lean down and kiss his forehead, and when she does, the tips of her fingers are pricked by the sharp corner of something she can’t see under the pillow beside him.

“Ouch! What-” She hisses, nearly face-planting over Bradley’s shoulder as she lifts the pillow. She stiffens when she realizes it’s a picture of you, framed in black wood and probably missing from his nightstand.

“I- I’m sorry.” She mumbles as he lays frozen and awkward in place, “I didn’t mean to pry. It just- it was sharp, and I was confused. If I'd known-”

“It’s alright, mom.” Bradley promises weakly, clearly embarrassed by her discovery, “Don’t worry about it.”

Carole is worried. She moves in again for the forehead kiss, letting it linger against Bradley’s forehead for a second longer than she needs to. She fights back tears when she pulls away, barely able to muster a smile.

“She’s just goin’ to the store,” She teases sweetly, “She’s not shippin’ off to war. That’s your job.”

“Yeah,” He laughs weakly, “I know. I just miss her.”

She agrees as she combs through his caramel-colored hair with one hand, “Yeah? Tell me about it, baby. What’s going on?”

She wants to hear it from him. She wants to know exactly what he’s thought of your careful deception, and see if she can offer him even miniscule relief towards your possibly suspicious behavior. It’s hard playing a double agent, but she loves you both too much to pick a side.

“Mom,” He takes a long pause before speaking, gnawing on the inside of his cheek like it’s gristle he’s working through, “I lied.”

She racks her brain, were the pancakes not good? Did he not want her to tuck him in? Does he wish they’d gone home so that he could have a moment of silence?

“Oh, yeah? About what, baby?”

“I…” Bradley starts, looking like the words are making him nauseous, rolling his stomach as they crawl out of his mouth, “I remember everything.”

Carole’s the one that’s going to be sick. Her stomach has only dropped so fast twice in her life, receiving the news of both of her boys’ crashes. It’s the hardest thing in the world to keep a straight face, but she allows it to drop slightly so that it looks like she’s just shocked by the news.

“What?" Perhaps her voice is louder than it should be, but she can't control it, "Your memories are back?’

“Yeah. I- I remember it all. And Mom-”

“Brad,” Nick calls from down the hallway, barreling into the room in his typical dramatic , “You- she said your memories are back?”

They freeze like he’s torn an irreparable hole in the delicate conversation. He’s always had a habit of bringing life into a room, but the subject matter had been killing them both, and his energy is the opposite of what they both need to finish it.

“Yeah, dad.” Bradley breathes, a sheen of uncontrollable tears glazing over his eyes that he prays no one sees, “I remember everything.”

“That’s great!” Nick cheers, giddy demeanor slowly dying as no one else smiles, “...Isn’t it? What’s- why are you crying, Brad?”

Carole turns to see for herself, and swallows a sob as she reaches over to wipe the single tear away that had managed to escape down his left cheek. At her touch his face crumples, and what must be a million more tears flood his face.

“Woah, hey,” Nick sits at the end of the bed, face finally drained of all happiness, “What’s the matter, Brad?”

“S’okay baby,” Carole promises, her own voice shaky, “You’re okay, Bradley. You can talk to us, you can tell us anything. What’s the trouble?”

“She left.” Bradley whimpers, overhead light illuminating every single crystalline tear that rushes in a waterfall down his face. He gasps for breath, choking on a cry when he tries to speak over it, “She- she left me!”

“Bradley,” Carole rushes to soothe him, smoothing her hands over his cheeks and slipping one behind his neck, “Sit up baby. Come here, sit up, talk to us.”

He lets Nick help her tug him off of the mattress, and he slumps forward into Carole’s embrace when she pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t even turn his head to bury his face into her shoulder, he just cries against her, limp like a ragdoll.

She presses rapidfire kisses to his temple, tears flowing down her own cheeks. She heard your side of the story first, she knows you had your reasons and your fears and your regrets, but watching Bradley fall apart is planting an ugly seed of anger towards you within her chest. She hates it because she loves you, but she wants her son to be okay again.

“Brad-man,” Nick splutters warily, “Y/N? Bud, she just went to the store. She’ll be back in, like, an hour, tops. No need for tears, son.”

“Nick,” Carole hisses, wishing she wasn’t so angry with him for not knowing the truth. She shouldn’t either, so she pets Bradley’s hair down to distract herself from giving anything away, “Baby, what do you mean?”

“She left,” Bradley repeats, crying defeatedly, his posture slumped and his tears thick and plentiful, “I asked her to- to marry me, and she left.”

Nick is finally silent. His spine stiffens, and Carole guesses a shiver ran up it. He looks at her bewilderedly, bordering on horrified, and she stares back, wishing for the third time in her life that she could turn back time.

“Brad,” Nick starts carefully, voice weak, “Do you- do you think you might be misremembering things, bud? I trust you, and- and obviously this means a lot to you. But that- maybe your concussion’s messin’ with your head. Are you sure that happened?”

“I’m sure, dad.” Bradley had the option to respond with a lot more malice than he chooses to, the words coming out miserable instead, “She left me, and now she’s pretending she never did, because she thinks I don’t remember.”

“She left you,” NIck repeats, still skeptical, “And she’s- she’s lying? Why would she-”

“I hope she never stops,” Bradley croaks, throat raw from sobs, “I hope she lies to me forever.”

Carole’s breath is knocked out of her chest. She manages a soft, teary, ‘What?’, and Bradley straightens up from where he’d been lying in her embrace.

“She left two weeks ago,” Bradley recalls, a stray sob bouncin his chest, “And- and it was hell. I lived in hell for two weeks. I thought she’d stay with Phoenix or something, but I- I checked, and her location was always some cheap motel. At first I thought- well, I was worried she was seeing someone else, or something. Y’know, motels have,” He sniffles, “-bad reputations. So I didn’t go see her. I thought she was over me or something. But she’s- that’s not her. That’s not my girl. So I was going to show up on Friday, give her until the end of the week to cool off, and bring her flowers. Chocolates, ice cream, movies-” He rambles, “Whatever. I wanted to make her fall in love with me again. But- I mean, that didn’t fucking work, did it?”

Carole’s too distraught to scold him for his language. He deserves it, he deserves to climb onto the roof and shout ‘fuck!’ as loud as he wants. The situation is truly fucked, there’s no other word for it.

Her chest ripples with a sob, and Nick’s hand comes to rub her back. Up and down, in soft, soothing motions that remind her why she fell for him.

“And- and then I woke up in the hospital, and my head was fuzzy, and my memories were gone. And the doctor told me I had amnesia, and she- she freaked. She ran off, she made that shitty bathroom excuse. I thought she was just going to cry, and- and didn’t want anyone seeing her. But everything came back to me while you two were outside,” Bradley glances guiltily at Carole, “-and- and I was gonna beg her to stay when she came back. But then- she asked to kiss me,” He whimpers, face held tight in a twisted grimace as he tries not to sob again, “-and I had a choice. I realized she was pretending, that- that it never happened. And I could choose to confess to remembering the truth, and lose her all over again, or-” Bradley shuts his eyes, squeezing a tear out of the left one, “Or pretend I didn’t know. And I wanted her- I needed her, so I pretended. I let her kiss me, and I let her-” He sniffles hard, “I let her hold my hand, and I let her feed me, and I let her lie to me. I loved it,” He cries, shoulders shaking with sobs, “I loved it when she lied to me. And I don’t want her to stop. At- at first, I thought she’d confess. That she’d tell me so that we could forgive and forget, or- or at least move forward. Because I want to, I want to forgive her, I already have, but she just won’t tell me anything happened. She was so-” He considers, voice heavy with despair, “So sweet in the hospital. It felt like nothing had happened at all, and I thought we could go back to that. We got so damn close,” He recalls, “We were- we were in the hospital room, alone, and she was just starting to tell me, and a fucking nurse walked in. We were this close!” Bradley sobs, fingers held a few tantalizing centimeters apart, “But now- now she keeps dodging the questions, and I started realizing that she-” He sniffles roughly, “-she might not want me back. She might leave if she knows I know. She’s doing it out of pity,” He chokes on his words, “So now I can’t tell her. Now I have to lie unless I want to lose her.”

Nick looks sick to his stomach, and Carole feels the same. They’re sharing horrified glances, but neither wants to berate him for lying to them. Nick reaches out to hold Bradley’s hand, and he squeezes it reassuringly.

“I get it, Brad. I do. I- if you don’t mind me asking, why did she leave? I thought-” He trails off, picking back up with even less confidence, “I thought you were soulmates, or something.”

“Yeah.” Bradley breathes, nodding, “I did, too. But she- she told me she couldn’t love me anymore. And I didn’t want to make her.”

“She told you she couldn’t love you anymore?” Nick rears back to stare questioningly at Carole, “What does that mean?”

“She’d been weird lately,” Bradley admits, “Sort of withdrawn. She wasn’t as enthusiastic in the mornings, when I’d go to work. But she always seemed fine when I came back- great, even. And I just figured she wasn’t sleeping right. But- but since Coyote crashed, I've been... scared. I had this sort of epiphany, that I could die any day and she’d be left all alone. I could die before we got married, I could die before we had kids, I could die before I got to grow old with her. I mean, I knew it was a risk,” He reasons, “But that was real. I watched that happen, and I watched his girlfriend sob in the waiting room, and I realized that could be Y/N. And I didn’t want my girlfriend terrified outside my hospital room, I wanted to say goodbye to my wife. So I thought-” He wipes a tear from his cheek, rough enough to leave it stained red, “I thought if I married her, things would be better. More secure. And she’d know that even if I died, I’d love her forever. Because that’s what marriage is, that’s- that’s what we were.”

“So I ignored the way she was acting,” Bradley laments, “I- I pushed it aside as sleep deprivation, and I pulled out a ring, and I asked her if she’d marry me. And she- she just flipped. Her eyes got all wide, and I kept waiting for her to say ‘yes’, but- but she stood up instead, and she said no. She said she wasn’t ready, that- that she couldn’t do this. That she couldn’t marry me, that she couldn’t love me anymore. And I was-” He breaks into a sob, “I was so confused. I was so hurt, because- because what? What- where did that come from? I thought she loved me,” He cries, “I thought she’d love me forever. And all of a sudden, she just can’t anymore? What happened, did- did she not want to be with me forever? Was twenty years not enough? To convince her that I was enough? I was so terrified, and I had this disgusting, sinking feeling as she was rambling about it, and she headed for the door, and I- I panicked.”

Bradley pants between sentences, breathing heavy and labored as tears spill down his cheeks. “I followed her, and I caught her by the door, and I- I begged her not to go, I told her that we could work it out, that we didn’t have to get married, that I’d make everything okay again. But she still left,” Bradley cries, “She still left me, and she didn’t come back.”

“Bradley,” Nick breathes, a hand on his knee, “Shit, Brad. I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Carole croons, leaning in to brace her forehead against his temple, “Baby, I’m so sorry. She’s- I wish she hadn’t done that.”

“Me too,” Bradley laughs, a humorless huff after he’s gotten enough control of himself to where he doesn’t sob, “But- but she’s pretending now. And if I confess to remembering, she’ll stop. And she’ll leave. She’s- she’s doing it out of pity,” Bradley drearily repeats, “Because she doesn’t want to drop a bomb on me after I fell out of the sky. And I know it’s not right to take advantage of it, to- to lie, but if it’s what I have to do to keep her with me-”

“No,” Nick shakes his head, “Brad, you can’t lie forever.”

“I can,” Bradley insists, “Dad, I have to.”

“You can’t,” Nick urges, “Brad, think about it. You really think she’d be kissin’ you if she didn’t love you? You think she’d have slept in here with you last night if she didn’t want to? You listen to me, boy. I don’t know why she left. I don’t know why she ‘couldn’t’ love you all of a sudden. But I know it’s bullshit, ‘cause she does. Something happened, and you need to talk about it with her. But spending your entire life living a lie isn’t right. That ain’t fair, to you or her. Tell her, Brad. Tell her you know.”

“I can’t! Not yet. I’ll- I’ll make her fall in love with me again. I know I can do it, I know I can convince her I’m worth it. That she can keep loving me. I’m not going to hold her captive, I just- I just want enough time to make her fall for me again, and then she won’t be lying about the love, then it’ll be real love, and that’s what I want. I can’t tell her yet, not until she really loves me again.”

“You have to tell her now, baby,” Carole concludes softly, gentle with her son’s broken heart and panicked brain, “Wouldn’t it be better if she knew? Then you could talk, and- and kiss and make up, that sort of thing. This is- a lie, Bradley, even if it's only temporary in your mind. You’re both lying to each other, and that’s not love."

“It’s all I’ve got,” Bradley breathes, tilting his tear-stained, blotchy face towards the light overhead. His eyes are shut, delicately so, and his lashes are clumped with tears. He sniffles, nose scrunching, and takes a deep breath before looking back at his parents.

“I know she said she can’t love me anymore, whatever that means. But like I said, I’m gonna win her over again, mom. I need her to love me, and if my options are letting her lie to me, or losing her, then I’m gonna let her lie to me until she doesn’t have to anymore. Until it’s real.”

Carole wants to scream at her son. She wants to sit you down beside him and scream something along the lines of ‘Would you confess already? Tell each other the truth, and get married!’. But she chooses a gentler approach, leaning in to wipe away what she hopes is the last of Bradley’s tears.

“I don’t think you should avoid it, baby,” She hums, keeping her voice soft and sweet so that Bradley takes it as friendly advice, and not a mother’s nagging, “I think you should tell her that you remember it all, and ask her what went wrong. Ask her why she felt like she couldn’t love you anymore, figure out what the problem was. Because if you know what the problem was, you can fix it.”

“But what if I can't-?” Bradley hums, and Carole snaps.

“Oh, of course you can fix it.” A residual dry sob splits her thought in half, “You two could fix world hunger if you did it together. Your dad’s right. She still loves you, even if she thinks she can’t. You might have to help her see that she still can, Brad. That she still does.”

“But I could lose her.” Bradley concludes glumly, “And I can’t lose her. So I can’t tell her the truth. I- I thought I lost her today." His shoulders tighten as he remembers, "I was trying to stay awake the whole night, just in case she tried slipping out before morning. But she caught me, and she-” He lets out a sob that hurts his throat, “She held me, and she lulled me to sleep, and I’ve never felt safer. But then I woke up, and she was gone, and the bed was empty, and- and I ran out to see if I could find her, and she was just in the hall. Talking to Mav. But I thought-” He can’t finish his sentence, shaking his head instead and starting over, “I can’t tell her the truth yet. I’ll lose her.”

They’re all running in circles, and it’s making Carole insane. She bites her lip to stop from confessing, then rises to her feet, Nick following after her.

“Sleep on it,” She suggests, smoothing out the bedsheets where she’d sat, “And she’ll be back by the time you wake up. I think you should tell her,” She repeats, “She loves you, Brad. Goodnight.”

Nick takes his leave as well, nodding at his wife’s words. Bradley slumps back against his- your pillow, one hand already snaking beneath the opposite one to retrieve your picture.

Nick barely waits until Carole’s shut the door behind her before turning on her, “What the fuck?”

“Move,” She urges in a hissing whisper. She grabs his bicep, dragging him away from the door. She doesn’t feel safe talking anywhere in the house, paranoid that Bradley could hear, but she pushes NIck down into a seat at the table, and huddles close to him to murmur, “I knew.”

“You- you what?” Nick’s voice goes up in volume, and Carole is sure she spits a little bit when she shushes him.

“I knew,” She repeats, “I knew she left him. She told me at the hospital.”

“Why am I never in the loop?” NIck groans, looking thoroughly confused, “Wait, so you knew the entire time? Like, from day 1?”

“Day one of the hospital,” She nods, “She didn’t tell me when it happened, she waited until I asked where her ring was after his crash. I knew he was gonna ask her, but he told me to keep it a secret ‘cause he wanted to do a big reveal. But I noticed she didn’t have it on in the hospital, and I asked, and she burst into tears. Started ramblin’ about how she was freaked out, and how she fled, and wasn’t ever brave enough to come back.”

“Why,” Nick presses, “Why was she freaking out? What’s the ‘can’t love you anymore’ bullshit?”

“She got scared after Javy went down,” Carole recalls, “She said it took her back to your crash, and she realized all of a sudden that it could happen to Brad, too. And she didn’t wanna do that again, 'didn’t wanna sit in a hospital chair and wait to see if someone she loved had stopped breathing. So she’d been freakin’ out since Javy crashed, then all of a sudden Bradley proposes, and- bam,” She sighs, “Everything fell apart. I mean it was a recipe for disaster, the crash made her pull away, and it made him want to be closer than ever, and they never addressed it, so when they clashed, it just-” She rubs her temples, staring up at Nick through her lashes, “Unraveled. But this is good. This is- this is really good, Nick. He wants her back, he wants another shot. And so does she. We’ve been talkin’, and she wishes she’d never left in the first place. I told her she should confess later tonight, now- that was before I knew he already knows, of course. But- but they’ll talk tonight, and she’ll tell him what happened, and she’ll ask to fix things, and he’ll want that, too. It’s gonna be okay, Nick, they’re gonna be okay. They’ll be fine by the end of the night, I guarantee it.”

“My head is spinning,” Nick scoffs, dragging a hand down his mustache and tugging lightly on the ends, “So- so they both know, they just don’t know they know, but we know that they know, and we know that they don’t know they know, and-” He gives up, “I don’t know.”

“That’s about right,” Carole nods, eyes bugging for a moment before she heaves another sigh, “I think she’s tellin’ Mav about it now. He overheard us talking about a secret, that secret. So when he volunteered to go shopping with her I figured he was gonna ask. And I don’t think she’d lie to him, I don’t think she could if she tried.”

“This is all so goddamn complicated,” Nick laments, clearing a crumb off of the table, but ultimately just flicking it onto the floor, “We were easy, babe. I mean, we locked eyes and I was having visions of you in a white dress.”

“Stop,” Carole gushes, but a smile is growing on her face, “Love is complicated sometimes! Doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“I’m just glad none of this shit happens to us,” Nick grins, holding out a hand, “You and me, honey, we’re easy love.”

“Don’t say it like that!” Carole gushes, though she gives him her hand willingly, “What are we, hippies?”

“I said easy, not free,” Nick laughs, “Nothin’ about our wedding was free, baby.”

“But you’d pay it all again, for me, wouldn’t you?” She narrows her eyes unamused at him, and he squeezes her hand.

“Honey, I’d spend every cent to my name just to be able to marry you over again.” Nick swears, and it’s the truth, they both know it. Carole gives him one of her sweet smiles, the one he’d fallen in love with, and each has renewed hope for you and Bradley. You’re in love just the same as them, and if they’ve got it worked out, so will you.

Grocery shopping with your dad is harder than you’d remembered, because now you’re the adult paying with your own money, and he’s the child throwing cookies and chips galore into the cart. You’re surprised you have any money left when you exit the supermarket, but you’re sure to pack 3 bags of Bradley’s cheetos into your stash. You wonder how he’s doing; if he’s asleep, if he’s fighting his parents to stay upright while they try to get him to rest, if he’s suddenly remembered everything he’d forgotten and now they’re helping him pack his things.

The thought of him leaving you makes your stomach burn white hot with fear, and you consider speeding home. But the load of groceries you’d gotten might have depleted any money you’d be able to pay the fine with, and you’re not keen on going to prison. So you and your dad drive home within the speed limit, and he helps you carry the bulging bags inside.

You’re simultaneously desperate to see Bradley, and hoping that you don’t when you walk in. On one hand, you hope he’s resting, napping in your bed like you’d asked him to. But on the other, if you don’t see him when you walk in, that means he might not even be in the house, and maybe you were right to catastrophize, maybe he’s gone, maybe he’s left you and asked his parents to drive him to the airport, and maybe he’s blocked you and told his teammates how awful you are, and-

And his parents are sitting on the couch. They turn back to smile at you when you come in, and both stand to help you with your bags. Your dad insists that he can manage all five that he’d lifted out of the car, but you’re eager to let Nick steal two of yours, and Carole takes the last one even though you tell her you can manage.

You busy yourself with putting the groceries away, and your dad busies himself with raiding the bags for the snacks he’d picked out. You’re sure he’ll slip a $20 into your purse later, he’s never let you pay for him, but he loves teasing you like he’ll dine and dash.

“Alright,” He announces, with hands full of junk food, “I’m outta here. I’m gonna head back home, I need to stock my pantry, then make dinner.”

“And that dinner wouldn’t be mint chip oreos, would it?” Carole raises an unimpressed brow at him and his junk food stash, and he rolls his eyes fondly at the woman.

“No. Penny has requested a very complicated pasta dish for tonight that I need at least three hours to make in case I mess up the first batch and need to restock ingredients to try it again. I think she’s testing me.”

“Good luck, buddy.” Nick claps your dad on the back, “Hope you pass.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s eyes go wide, a sigh escaping him, “Me too. Y/N, uh-”

“Tell him.” Carole cuts in, eyes as intense as you’ve ever seen them despite the smile on her face. You know she means business, and you don’t blame her.

Nick doesn't look confused by her cryptic, vague statement, and you assume she’s filled him in. You suppose it’s only fair, because your dad knows now, too, but you hadn’t planned on making it a public affair. Nick doesn’t seem to despise you, though, in fact he sends you a reassuring smile as he herds Carole to the door.

“We’re going, too. He’s asleep,” He nods toward your bedroom, “Tell him, honey.”

Your suspicions are confirmed; he knows. You nod hesitantly, watching them pile into the entryway and take their empty grocery bags with them. All except for your dad, of course, who packs his snacks into one. You’re hit with an overwhelming sense of being blessed, not necessarily with divine miracles, but with people who just might be them. They’ve come, they’ve given you food, love, and encouragement, and they’re leaving so that you can have a chance at fixing up the best part of your life.

If they notice your teary eyes when you wave goodbye, they don’t mention it.

The groceries are put away, and you have no desire to take down the decorations. Not when you’re aching with fatigue, not when your emotions have gotten the best of you for two weeks. You don’t have much energy for anything anymore, and you haven’t since you’d left Bradley. You wonder, if the worst happens, and he doesn’t forgive you, will you ever stop being tired? Is it Bradley that energizes you, is it the love that he’s so ready and willing to give you that keeps you going?

You’d like to think you’d be able to pick yourself back up, dust yourself off, and move on with your life, but after twenty years of loving Bradley and being loved back by him, you know this is the only life worth living.

You drag your exhausted limbs down the hallway, cracking open the door to find that Nick was telling the truth - he’s fast asleep.

He’s on his stomach, his cheek squished sideways against the pillow. He’s snoring lightly, a sound that you should despise, but that prompts a grin over your face. You feel nothing but soft, sweet love for him in this moment, your snoozy boy.

You’re more than happy to crawl in beside him, barely remembering to take your shoes off before getting beneath the sheets. It’s warm beneath the blanket, the safe kind of warmth that draws you in with the promise of drowsy cuddles and whispered proclamations of love. You do just that as you snuggle up to Bradley’s side, adoring the way that he moves in his sleep to curl around you even if he doesn’t know you’re there.

“I love you, Brad,” You whisper against his temple, kissing his hairline and the prickly whisps that sit at its border. He’s roused from his sleep from how close you’d spoken to his ear, and it looks physically painful for him to open his eyes. He does, though, lifting his face so that his chin perches on your chest. He blinks blearily at you, once, twice, probably drowsy out of his mind.

“Hm?”

His voice is groggy, thick with sleep. It’s the most endearing sound you’ve ever heard, and you crane your neck forwards to bump your nose into his as you repeat it: “I love you, Brad.”

His typical puppyish aura becomes more cat-like as he smushes his face into your own, nose smearing against your skin and forehead bumping into yours. He hums deep in his throat, happy to have you beside him as his hands wind tightly around your waist.

“Love you too, babe.” He rasps, “Gonna sleep w’me?”

“Yeah,” You whisper, smoothing his hair out of his face, “Lay down, baby, I’ll rub your back.”

His only reply is plopping his face back down into your chest, cheek chubbed up where it rests on your shirt. He’s out like a light almost as soon as you start raking your fingers up and down his back, ghosting them over his skin like you’re trying to do it without him knowing.

You know he’s sleeping by now, you know he doesn’t need you to keep doing it, but the fact that you get to feels like a gift, and you occupy yourself with the task of scrawling random designs over his back for a few minutes longer. Swirls and waves turn into a curve down his spine, and then you connect it with an identical one over his other side; a heart. One heart becomes two, then three, and all of a sudden he’s covered in them. You’re carving paths into his skin, digging heart-shaped trenches down his back like you’re walking the same path in a dirt road every single day. You wonder if he’d look good with them tattooed, an expansive mural of your love on his back for only you to see.

All of a sudden hearts aren’t enough.

LOVE

YOU

You trace letters into his back, your nail scraping slightly on every curve of your finger. He shivers slightly at the bottom half of the ‘y’, and you bite back a giggle as he nestles further into you.

You don’t stop there.

YOU

ARE

CUTE

It seems only appropriate with the way he’s snuggled up to you like a sleepy puppy, desperate to press every inch of his body against your own.

LOVE

YOU

Again, then- your breath catches in your throat as you remember.

I’M

SORRY

Tears prick at your eyes when his arms tighten infinitesimally around your waist, a sleepy hum oozing from his throat like sweet honey, slow and sugary. You’re worried he’s awake, that he’s caught onto what you’re doing, and wants to talk. You know you have to tell him, you just don’t want to.

But he settles without so much as the blink of an eye, and you wait only a quick second to start using his back as your diary once more.

I’M

SORRY

WISH

I’D

STAYED

LOVE

YOU

You feel absolutely pathetic. Tears have leaked down your face, sideways into the bases of your ears, creating an uncomfortable wet sensation that you’d rather there not be. You’re trying to hold in a sob so that you don’t wake him, but it hurts. Your throat aches from holding in your anguish, and your chest aches with the knowledge that everything you’ve done with Bradley over the past few days could be your last time doing it with him. This morning could have been your last morning with him, this nap could be your last nap with him, the kiss you strain to press to his forehead could be the last kiss you ever give him. It’s all too much, and your finger tapers off in its pursuit of tracing your love letters onto his back.

You wrap your arms around him instead, a difficult position to maintain while simultaneously trying to sleep, but all you want is to drift off in his embrace, just in case this is the last time you’ll ever do it.

Between your exhaustion and your despair, the former wins out. You finally drift off into a dreamless sleep, burdened by the ever-present threat of this being the last day you can pretend like this. You’re talking tonight, whether you like it or not, and the thought plagues what could have been a very relaxing, rejuvenating nap with your lover.

Instead you wake up possibly less refreshed than before, bleary eyes blinking despite a pounding headache behind your eyes. The sun has shifted over the blankets you’re under, and Bradley isn’t on top of you anymore, he’s by your side. You’ve swapped positions, and you don’t know how he’d managed to maneuver you onto his chest without waking you, but he’s always exceptionally careful with you, so you’re sure you’d slept like a baby the entire time.

He’s still in his fuzzy pajamas, and you wish you were, too. He’s holding his phone above your head, presumably scrolling through social media, or news headlines he’s forgotten about since his accident, and his eyes are fixed on the phone screen. You have a quick second to admire him before he realizes you’re up, and your eyes rove over his features. His lips are quirked up delicately in the corners, his mustache dipping down ever-so-slightly over his bottom lip. His eyes hold a fond look that reminds you of honey, paired excellently with his caramel-colored bedhead.

His color has returned completely; if you didn’t get the call that he’d been an inch from death, you wouldn’t know now. But you know his injuries are more internal, and you’re worried about how he’s laid you over his chest.

You’re in no rush to let him know you’re awake, so you ogle him some more. He swipes left a few times at the screen, and you think he might be looking between pictures. Of what, you’re not sure, maybe a tiktok slideshow of cute cats or of Hangman’s nieces at the playground. You’ve never met them, but the amount of pictures he sends of them makes it feel like you yourself gave birth to them.

He gets a notification and glances at it, but when his eyes drop back to the subject on the screen, they go lower than he’d intended, and he sees your open eyes blinking owlishly at him. In a second he’s forgotten about his phone, but he keeps it in his hand to avoid dropping it on your head.

His face doesn’t light up, it blooms. There’s no jarring explosion of happiness, no sudden firework show of joy, but his grin widens smooth and steady, like a vine crawling a garden wall. His eyes ooze with adoration, and you’d kiss them if that wouldn’t hurt him. His free hand tightens where it had been thrown around your waist, and he looks residually sleepy as he smiles down at you. He must not have woken very long ago.

“Hi, angel,” He hums, and you feel his slightly raspy voice vibrate through his chest. He leans forward to nudge his nose against yours, and you reciprocate like a cat in need of affection. You wriggle up by his side, peering at his screen while simultaneously nestling yourself against him.

It’s a picture of the two of you together.

You’re at the zoo, and there’s a giraffe behind you, eager to see if Bradley’s phone contained any lettuce. It didn’t, but after the animal had tested its theory Bradley’s right speaker wouldn’t work until he got it replaced. It was a very pricey snack. He gives you a moment to admire it, then swipes to the right, back to one of the pictures he’d been looking at before. It’s you pressed up against the glass at the penguin exhibit, one of the little birds curiously following your finger against the glass. He swipes rapidly now, all through photos of you, most containing him as well.

You realize he’s looking only at pictures of you, and your heart just about stops in your chest. It doesn’t know whether to swell with love for the boy, or shrivel at the knowledge that he might delete them when he knows the truth.

“Oh, Brad,” You breathe, “You’re looking at pictures of us?”

“Mostly us. A lot of just you, though,” He admits, “I’m trying to jog my memory.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You nod, “Is it-” You break off with a yawn, “Is it working?”

“No,” His smile dims, “Uh, not really. I don’t know. It’s like- I want them back, so this chunk of my life isn’t just missing. But I almost died- and,” He stops, eyes no longer focused on the screen, merely staring through it, “I don’t think I want to remember that.”

“I’m sorry, Brad.’ You tell hum, because you are. You’re sorry he can’t remember anything, you’re sorry he will remember everything, and you’re sorry you remember everything. “I’d swap with you in a second,” You promise, but it means more than you let on. You yearn for amnesia, you wish you didn’t have to remember making the stupidest mistake of your life and losing your love. You’d fall out of the sky if it meant you could forget what you’d done to him that night.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” He smiles sadly at you, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll get through it. Whatever happens, s’long as I’ve got you.”

You hope he doesn't hear your voice tremble when you reply, “Yeah. You've got me.”

Bradley resumes scrolling through pictures, and his lips quirk up more at each image he sees.

“Remember this?” He angles the phone further towards you, “When Mav almost fell off of that fishing boat, and my dad almost fell in trying to stop him?”

“And your mom almost fell in laughing,” You grin, tucking the expression into his neck, “We should go fishing again, sometime.”

Hope blooms in his chest at your suggestion. He’s being extra endearing today, intent on reminding you just how much you used to love him. He wants to make himself worth it for you, he wants you to want to love him again, and the fact that you’ve suggested a future outing gives him hope that you might share that future together.

“We should,” He agrees, swiping to see a photo of you in his baseball cap, holding up a fish you’d caught with a giddy grin.

“Good catch,” He praises you, rubbing his arm up and down your side, “He looks surprised.”

“I would be too, if I ate a worm and it dragged me to some giants in a boat,” You shrug, “Plus, I let him go after. He was fine.”

“You’re a very ethical fisherman,” Bradley muses, “My dad only let his go because it flopped out of his hand.”

“He’s accidentally ethical,” You giggle, “The tail almost slapped him in the face.”

“I would have paid a fortune to see that,” Bradley gushes, his fingers digging ticklishly into your side, “Let’s hope he fishes up an old boot or something this time.”

“Like in a cartoon?” You rear back to laugh incredulously at Bradley, “I don’t think people really fish up boots, Brad.”

“I’ll chuck a boot in the lake just to see his face,” Bradley promises, and the giggles you two share harmonize the twang of your heartstrings.

The next photo Bradley swipes to is a New Year’s Eve one, your traditional pose with a much more confident kiss, this time around. It’s from this past year, and you marvel at how much you’ve both grown since the awkward teens you’d seen earlier.

“Oh, that reminds me,” You gush, almost kneeing him in the already-cracked ribs as you scramble for the photo album on the bookshelf, “Let’s look at these, Brad, they’re so cute.”

He almost points out the failure in your logic, even if he does want to see the pictures. He nearly asks you why you’d look at incredibly old pictures to jog recent memories, but then all of a sudden he’s hit with the thought that those might help his case, and he shuts up. He wants you to remember how much you used to love him, or, if you still do, how it was once worth it for you to do so. How once upon a time, you could love him, and maybe if you see enough baby pictures of the two of you together, loving each other since you’d opened your eyes for the first time, that maybe you’d decide you could love him again.

You rush back to the bed with the cover already cracked, though you show it off with a gooey grin, “You were enamored with me from the moment you saw me, Brad.”

“Of course I was,” He laughs, ringing his arm around your neck to hug you tight to his side while you flip to the first page. He peers at your scrunched-up baby face, vague memories of kissing your nose flashing through his mind from when you were younger, and it was the only thing that could get you to stop crying.

“You’ve always been the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He swipes a finger over a photo of you together, stroking it along your cheek where he was feeding you mushed-up green beans. “See? I was so entranced I didn’t even notice you were about to kick me.”

He points to your tiny foot, clothed in a onesie with dogs on it, and poised ready to fire. You’d bet money that right after the photo had been taken, you had launched your foot into his knee, and you hope little Bradley wasn’t brought to tears over it.

“Sorry, baby,” You hum, voice just as sticky-sweet as your kiss is against his cheek. He leans into it, but you’re not expecting it, so you smear a bit more spit over his face than you’d intended to. However, when you laugh incredulously and try to wipe it off, he wriggles away from your shirtsleeve, insisting on keeping the mark.

“No! I fell out of the sky three days ago,” Bradley gripes, head held high, “I get to keep all of the gross kisses you give me.”

“I’d launch a gross kiss attack if I wasn’t worried about hurting your ribs,” You lament, settling back into his side, “Oh, Brad, look at this one!”

It was your first Halloween together. Bradley’s sporting a yellow hat in the picture, with bear ears on top, and a red shirt over his chubby baby belly. His pants are the same shade as his hat, and you’re the Piglet to his Winnie the Pooh as you sit in a pink onesie and matching ear-hat in his little lap.

You tug the photo out of its sleeve, reading Carole’s neat inscription on the back: Bradley cried just a few minutes after we took this, because we looked away for a second and when we turned back he was feeding Y/N a snickers bar. We didn’t mean to yell, but we freaked out and spooked him, and he wouldn’t stop crying unless we told him he could finish the rest of the bar. Winnie the Pooh does NOT like raised voices.

“Crybaby,” You tease, and Bradley groans.

“I was a kid! They yelled at me! Of course I cried!”

“Poor baby, you just wanted to feed me chocolate,” You croon, turning sympathetic at the sight of his exasperated brown eyes, “You’ve always been good to me, Brad.”

“Always,” He promises, squeezing you tighter, then pointing at the next page over, “Aw, look at this one. They dressed you up as the turkey for thanksgiving.”

“We fell asleep in front of the fire,” You recall, not from memory but from the stories you’ve been told, and the pictures you’d seen, “We were both milk drunk and stuffed from dinner.”

“Still nappin’ together all these years later,” Bradley grins, leaning in to brush his nose against yours.

“Let’s nap together forever,” You sigh as you nestle your cheek back against his arm. His confidence builds the more you suggest a future together, and he thinks that what his dad had been telling him might have been right; maybe you do still love him, maybe it’s not a lie. Maybe you do just need a little convincing, and he’s happy to show you how great he can be for you.

“Here’s my first snowman,” Bradley hums, pointing to a picture that’s exactly as it was described. You’re on vacation together and he’s the snowman, bundled in a thousand layers of winter gear and still shivering from the cold as Nick piles snow around him in three tiers. You're sitting off to his left, eating a chunk out of his icy side.

“Your little nose is so red!” You croon, nearly melting in fondness for baby Bradley, “He was so mean!”

“I’m surprised I didn’t get frostbite. I bet my mom gave him the lecture of a lifetime for that one.” Bradley snickers, “Mav probably had to take us both into the other room so she could swear.”

“She swore at me the other day,” You recall, and Bradley’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“What? Why?”

You realize too late that you can’t really tell him the reason, but you shake your head dismissively, “It was when we were at the hospital. She was just stressed, ‘s all.”

Bradley’s half worried about his mom, and half worried about you. He’s concerned that his accident had stressed her out enough to swear, something she never did, but he’s concerned that it had been at the wrong time for you, that she’d only made your secret situation worse by snapping at you for something unrelated.

You just hope he never finds out that she’d known from the start.

“Look,” You prompt, “There’s another picture of us napping in here, right-” You flip through a substantial amount of pages, “Here.”

Your finger lands on a photo of you and Bradley at fifteen, harboring crushes on each other almost too big to hide. It seems like everyone but yourselves had known you were going to get together, and you flash your dad’s inscription on the back at him with an exasperated smile.

Next time, I’m making them leave the door open when they study.

You’re definitely not doing anything scandalous, but years in the navy had taught your father to be hypervigilant around men. He’d rather you be with Bradley than absolutely anyone else in the world, of course, he knew the boy was kind-hearted, but he was still a boy, and it was difficult for him to be one-hundred percent on board with the situation while you were still teenagers.

You’re slumped against each other on the bed, being held up only by the other’s opposite weight. You’re balanced precariously, and if either of you had shifted slightly, you’d both have toppled. But it seems you’d dozed off while reading a Physics textbook, and you don’t blame yourself at all.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt the phrase ‘walking down memory lane’ to be more accurate. Each turn of the page, each rectangular piece of photo paper tucked beneath its cellophane sleeve really does transport you back in time, and you feel like you’re holding Bradley’s hand while strolling through your memories. You want to steer clear of the dark, gaping hole on his own lane, and to do so, you flip to his twenty-first birthday photo.

It’s not one that your parents had taken; they don’t know it exists. Bradley’s crouched beneath you as you spit a shot into his mouth, probably spilling some onto the gray fabric of his t-shirt. You had still technically been twenty at the time, and you’d had his birthday party at your mutual friends’ apartment, with much less strict of a bouncer than the one at the bar. You’d both gotten hammered that night, and he doesn’t remember much, but Bradley can confidently say no one else got their shots by drinking them out of your mouth.

“That was hot,” Bradley informs you, “We should do that again soon.”

“Yeah, I don’t think concussions and alcohol mix,” You scoff, knocking your head against his own, “Ease up on the booze, Brad.”

“Oh, you’re such a worrier,” He teases, knowing full well you’re correct, “Look, there’s graduation.”

The college photo of you two is printed smaller here, and if you were an artist, you could draw it from memory. Every detail, the sprig of grass stuck to Bradley’s left sleeve, the slight squint to your eyes from the sun, everything is memorable because you’ve stared at it so many times.

“This is the one I keep under your pillow when you’re deployed,” You admit in a soft murmur, “It’s my favorite.”

Bradley means to respond to that, he really does. But there’s nothing he can think of saying that would be sufficient, nothing that could possibly convey the love and adoration he feels for you. Nothing that could tell you how lucky he is to love you, and to have been loved by you for all these years. And how terrified he is to lose you. The word deployment strikes a sour chord in his chest, and all of a sudden he’s wondering how he ever left you in the first place. Being at home while you were at the grocery store sent him into a spiral, he doesn’t know how he ever made it months without seeing you, hearing you, holding you.

“You gave up the Naval Academy for me,” You recall when he doesn’t respond, your voice quivering like a thin rope stretched tight, “I told you I was scared to go by myself, that I'd miss you, and you withheld your application from the academy. For me. Brad, you gave up your dream for me.”

It doesn’t take him any time at all to respond this time around, because the answer is easy and honest: “That’s not true. You were my dream, angel. You still are.”

“Brad,” Your face crumples, and you have to bury your face in his shoulder to withhold a sob. You clutch at the fabric of his shirt sleeve, heaving a heavy sigh once you’ve collected yourself, “I love you, Bradley. I- I want to fill out the rest of this book with you,” You reach for the pages, sticking your thumb into the spot between them where the album goes thin. You flip to the empty pages, “I want to sit in a home with you and stuff this book full with pictures of us all old and gray.” You sniffle, “I want to be with you forever, I- I want our grandchildren- no, our great-grandchildren to take the last pictures in this book,” You blubber, “I- I just love you so much.”

I love you.

I want to fill out the rest of this book with you.

I want to be with you forever.

I love you so much.

He hadn’t planned on rushing it. He wanted to draw it out, spend the next few days, weeks even, showing you how loved you are, and hoping you crawl out of your shell again, reciprocate the way you used to. But he can’t wait anymore, not now that you’ve told him you’re in this for life.

“Sweetheart,” Bradley gropes for the first drawer of his dresser with a blind, frantic hand. He locates the ring in no time flat, his other arm nearly crushing you into his side as he yanks the jewelry free of the sock it had been hidden under. He shoves it towards you, unceremonious, rushed, and messy, but with all the tender sweetness in his heart: “Y/N- Marry me?”

just a reminder in case you didn't read my author's note: life got in the way and I wasn't able to include their big talk in this part, but i've just extended it to a fourth part that will be posted next week! i'm sorry to keep you waiting longer, some very heavy stuff has gone on in my life lately and it was very hard to work on this. i hope you enjoyed, and i hope you understand! i'm sorry again for not finishing it when i said i would </3 buttt did you see the plot twist coming? i'm eager to hear what you think >:))))

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

#this is so sweet oh my god #AHHHH obsessed obsessed inLOVE #rooster rec

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